


The Eyes of a Fox

by Esc



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (except not really), Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Animal Transformation, Canon-Typical Violence, Curse Breaking, Cursed Sleep, Day At The Beach, Deal with a Devil, Fear of Drowning, Fluff, Fox Magnus Bane, M/M, Magical cures, Magnus Bane is a Fox, Mind Control, Oaths & Vows, Original Character(s), Prince Alec Lightwood, Romantic Fluff, Secrets, Shapeshifting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bad ex camille
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esc/pseuds/Esc
Summary: Magnus Bane is a talking fox. An actual, literal, talking fox.Somehow, that's the least of Alec's worries....Under mysterious circumstances, Princess Isabelle has fallen into a death-like sleep. Her brother, Alec, is left to find a way to break her curse with little more than fragments of information to guide him. That is, until a handsome, shapeshifting fox appears to offer his help.Alec knows better to trust a fox. Especially one who clearly knows more than he lets on. But he's running out of options, he's running out of time, and there's no way he can catch that damn Golden Bird on his own.Featuring a magical healing bird, an evil king with a pear tree, journeys to far-off lands, general nonsense, and the desperate desire to kiss the living hell out of a man that Alec probably shouldn't trust.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 34
Kudos: 86





	1. The Cursed Princess

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not getting the fantasy Malec AU’s I deserve, so I guess I have to write it myself.
> 
> I will be editing/ re-editing this willy-nilly, because it gives me the illusion of control over my life :D I won't change any big plot-points or anything, just little corrections/ clarifications/ touch-ups.
> 
> Most recent edit: 23/08/2020

**Chapter 1: The Cursed Princess**

_“But at this moment the young fairy stepped forth from behind the tapestry._

_‘Take comfort, your Majesties,’ she cried in a loud voice. ‘Your daughter shall not die. The princess will indeed prick her hand with a spindle. But instead of dying she shall merely fall into a profound slumber that will last a hundred years.’”_

\- The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, by Charles Perrault

.o.O.o.

When Alec Lightwood was shaken from a deep sleep in the small hours of the night, he knew at once that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Your Highness,” the guard said, holding a witchlight stone aloft so that it cast cool illumination over them both. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you’re needed.”

Alec lurched awake.

“What is it, Julian?” he asked, already kicking off his blankets, “What’s happened?”

Alec didn’t wait for his answer; he was already kicking off his blankets as he took stock of the young guard. 

He was wearing the typical uniform of a night guard on duty. The leather armour strapped across his chest was embossed with the crest of York, and his arms were dark with angelic runes that seemed to sizzle beneath the surface, newly activated and burning with power. Alec’s eyes jumped to the seraph blade at Julian’s hip. The metal glinted whiter and sharper than an inert blade ever did; it had already been named for an angel in preparation for combat.

Alec cursed, shoving his feet into his boots.

“Are we being attacked?” he asked before Julian could speak, pushing past him to reach for his shirt. York was always a popular target for the enemies of the Idris Empire, separated enough from the capital to make it vulnerable, but strategic enough in location to be a tempting conquest. War was always looming for their small kingdom.

But Julian was already shaking his head. 

“No, your Highness. We have not confirmed the presence of any specific enemy at this time.”

“Well, then, what is it?” Alec asked, not slowing down as he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. “Is there flooding in the south again?”

If that was the case, then they would likely need to send in the military to aid civilians, which wasn’t ideal, considering the potential threat of invasion, but Alec would make do.

He grabbed his bow and quiver, throwing both over his shoulder as he made for the door.

“No, your Highness,” Julian said quickly, falling into step beside him. “It’s the princess.”

Alec paused with his hand on the doorknob. He gave Julian an incredulous look.

“ _Isabelle_?” he asked, although their kingdom had no other princess. “Is she _here_? Is she here _now_?”

Isabelle had spent the better part of the last year at the Northern Estate, located in the most secure and peaceful portion of their kingdom, and wasn’t due to return until the end of summer. If her letters, rare as they were, had been any indication, then she was in no hurry to return to their home. But if she was _here_ …

Julian nudged Alec out of the way, stepping in front of him to open the door with a cautious motion. He had a hand on his blade as he peeked out into the hallway, and Alec could read the tension well enough that he readied his bow, already running his stele down its length to activate the runes carved into the wood. Julian glanced at him and nodded in approval.

“She was found a few minutes ago,” Julian said, drawing his blade as he slipped into the corridor, “I was sent to wake you immediately. We don’t know what happened, yet, but we assume there are still enemies on palace grounds.”

“ _Found_?” Alec echoed, and then, more urgently, “What _enemies_?”

Julian shook his head.

“We have no idea, your highness,” he said, already starting down the corridor. Alec trailed behind him, bow nocked with an arrow and ready to fire. “None have been spotted, and no aggressive moves have been made, but we can only assume…” he trailed off as they passed a small group of armed and runed servants. They wore the blue-and-white uniforms of the healing ward and were moving with intent.

They rounded the corner and emerged into the entrance hall to find the great oak doors of the palace open to the cool night air.

There were guards crowded at the threshold, but they didn’t have the air of soldiers on the defensive, despite the glow of their blades. Instead, an uneasy murmur rose amongst them as they peered out into the gloom. Few so much as glanced at their crown prince as he approached, even as they parted to allow him through.

There were guards crowded at the threshold, but they didn’t have the air of soldiers on the defensive, despite the glow of their seraph blades. Instead, an uneasy murmur rose amongst them as they peered out into the gloom. Only a few so much as glanced at their crown prince as he approached, even as they parted to allow him through.

A pale shape was laid out on the doorstep. For an odd, weightless moment, Alec thought he was looking at some sort of spectre. In the dark of the night, lit only by unsteady torchlight, they seemed almost to glow.

It took Alec’s sleep-addled brain a long moment to recognize that it was a human body, not a ghost laid out before him. It took another for him to recognize the face.

It was Isabelle.

The world stuttered around him. _Ah_ , he thought, _I must still be asleep_. She was as still as a corpse, laid out on her back with her hands folded over her heart like a body ready for the pyre. She was even dressed for the occasion, wearing a fine dress in mourning white, a pale funerary shroud wrapped around her.

 _A dream, then_. His bow slipped through his limp fingers. _A nightmare_. He didn’t hear it clatter on the stone. The guards around him became shapes, impressions of concerned whispers and half-outstretched hands that didn’t dare touch.

He took a step forward. Then another. Another. And then his legs were buckling, his knees hitting the cold stone with a painful jolt.

 _An odd dream, that the pain felt so real_.

“Izzy?” he whispered. His own voice sounded far away.

Her face was pale and gaunt, more skeletal than he ever remembered it being. Dark circles under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights, and lips with a startling blue tinge that made him worry about her catching a chill.

“Izzy?” he said again, louder this time. Perhaps, if he were loud enough, he could wake her. Perhaps he could wake _himself_.

Someone had tidied her hair, the black strands combed and gathered into a neat plait that rested on her shoulder. One curl had escaped and fallen across her face.

 _‘An odd dream,’_ Alec thought as he automatically reached out to right it, _‘to feel so real.’_

He froze just short of touching her, afraid of the cold, silent flesh he might find. His hand shook.

 _Not a dream_. He realized, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

Alec flinched away from the touch with a snarl, rounding on the intruder with every intention to shout at them not to touch him, but his throat closed around the words when he saw his brother standing beside him.

“Alec,” Jace said, expression grim, “She’s alive. It’s okay. Look at her runes, she’s _alive_.”

Alec stared up at Jace. His hair was mussed into a chaotic golden halo around his head, the back flattened into his signature brand of helmet hair. He was also wearing his demon-hunting gear, leather armour embroidered with the royal crest of the second prince of York, and Alec suddenly recognized the guards standing around Isabelle’s body as the ones from Jace’s personal retinue. He was immediately thankful for it; no guards in the kingdom were more loyal than those who served the second prince. Jace had that effect on people.

Alec blinked, Jace’s words finally catching up to him.

“She’s—She’s alive?” he asked, glancing down at Isabelle. The sleeves of her dress had been roughly torn away, exposing the skin of her arms and the angelic runes that covered them. The ink was still black, the lines crisp and sharp. If she were dead, they would have faded away by now, leaving faint impressions like fine white scars beneath her skin. “She’s alive,” he repeated, blinking hard. But- “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

Jace squeezed Alec’s shoulder. “We’re not sure. Healer Wrayburn got here half a second before you did and immediately ran for the village, saying she would be right back and telling us not to touch Iz until she got back.”

Alec nodded, already cataloguing the runes on Isabelle’s arms, mind racing. He immediately picked out the freshest amongst them, which couldn’t have been drawn more than twenty-four hours ago, and automatically translated a few of them in his head: _speed, strength, agility, bravery in combat_.

“She was in a fight,” Alec murmured, unconsciously lifting his hand to his own neck where a large _deflect_ rune was permanently inked.

“Agreed,” Jace said, taking a knee beside him, “But she’s not wearing her combat gear. Do you think she was ambushed?”

“Must have been,” Alec said, shaking his head. It was the obvious answer, if you ignored a lack of visible injuries or the fact that someone had seemed to have left her on their doorstep to be found. He looked closer at what he had thought to be a shroud and found it instead to be a cream-coloured blanket, bunched around her as if to ward off the night’s chill. He reached out to touch the material, feeling it between his fingers.

‘ _Fleece,_ ’ he immediately identified, and then, as almost an afterthought, ‘ _Expensive_.’ The dress, too, was of fine make, with detailed lacework around the collar. The colour was odd, though. Was she ambushed at a funeral? Or was she changed into the dress after the fact, as a sort of message.

Jace offered a tight-lipped smile, eyes downcast.

“Healer Wrayburn will know what to do,” Jace said, though his expression was not reassuring.

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Diana Wrayburn burst in through the outer doors of the courtyard, a guard at her side and a green-skinned, white-haired man following behind her. He was visibly a warlock, though not one that Alec could name, and was sporting an expression that was unspeakably exhausted.

The guards crowded more tightly around Isabelle as the downworlder approached. From the corner of his eye, Alec saw Jace get to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. Alec stayed kneeling, watching Diana out of the corner of his eye as she strode towards them.

Diana waved the guards away with a scowl. She was still wearing her sleeping clothes and had a mark on her dark-skinned cheek that looked suspiciously like a pillow crease, but her presence still commanded all the authority of a general in battle. She stopped at Alec’s side, her dark eyes scanning over Isabelle quickly as if to confirm that everything was still in place. 

“Ragnor Fell,” she said without looking up, gesturing for the warlock to come forward, “If you please.”

The warlock sighed as if her request were _completely_ unreasonable, but still stepped forward with magic gathering at his fingertips. He made a few quick gestures, and magic fell from Ragnor’s palms, orange and rippling through the air like a mirage over hot earth. Alec held his breath as it touched Isabelle, washing over her in a slow swell of light that went from dim to bright and back again. Beside him, Jace tensed.

“Definitely a magical sleep,” Ragnor said, sounding bored, “The main energy is demonic, which is no surprise…but there’s also something overlaying it. Or maybe… interwoven with it? A few somethings, actually.”

“Different magics?” Alec asked, frowning. “Does that mean that she was attacked by multiple entities?”

Ragnor hummed, squinting at the magic. “Not necessarily. No, I don’t think… hold on, let me—,” he made a complicated gesture, and the texture of his magic shifted to jagged-rough. His face twitched into something that may have either been surprise or a reaction to a bad smell. “Hm. It seems like someone has been tossing a lot of healing magic at Her Royal Highness, but I don’t recognize the source.”

Jace scoffed, his lip curling. “What do you mean, you don’t recognize the source?”

Alec winced at his tone, but Ragnor just shrugged, unconcerned. “There’s a lot of nature energy, so I would normally guess the Fair Folk, but as soon as I look closer, the patterns are all wrong. It doesn’t have the right fractals for any fae magic I’ve ever seen before. Not quite right for warlock either. _Definitely_ not demonic, though.”

Jace muttered something about downworlder magic and demonic magic being the same thing, but he was ignored by all present.

Diana hummed. “An unknown, then,” she turned to Ragnor. “Do you believe touching her could trigger anything or spread any magical residue?”

Ragnor shook his head. “No. There doesn’t seem to be any sleeper spells or latching magic on her,” he paused, squinting. “Although… there is _something_.”

He reached for Isabelle. Immediately, Jace moved as if to unsheathe his sword, but Alec stopped him with a hand on his elbow, watching Ragnor as he gently lifted Isabelle’s wrists aside to expose the skin of her collarbone.

Just beneath the hollow of Isabelle’s throat, over her sternum, was a rune that was half-covered by the lacey neckline of her dress. It was as fresh as the runes on her arms, but Alec couldn’t identify it from the upper portion alone.

“Hm.” Ragnor clicked his tongue, tone unsettled for the first time that night.

Jace looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, ‘Hm’? What does _‘Hm_ ’ mean?”

Ragnor rolled his eyes, quickly regaining his air of boredom. “‘ _Hm’_ means that something is odd about this… _rune_. It has the magical signatures of something drawn with the stele of a nephilim, but something about it is… _different_ from your usual angelic nonsense.”

“Different how?” Diana asked, leaning forward to get a better look. She reached out and pulled down the neckline of Isabelle’s dress, just enough to expose the rest of the rune.

Alec blinked, confused.

It wasn’t anything that he recognized: it was comprised of a half-circle, the flat edge facing downward so that it looked like the sun dipped halfway below the horizon, with three crosses overlapping it, one at the apex of the curve and one on either side. In the centre, there was a scribble of something that might have been a word, though it wasn’t any language that Alec recognized. Or at least, it wasn’t _legibly_ any language he recognized.

Jace leaned forward to get a closer look.

“Hm,” he said.

Diana clicked her tongue. She wasn’t what one would call a cheerful woman, but her expression then was downright grim. “That doesn’t look like any rune _I’ve_ seen in the Grey Book. Do you recognize it, Warlock Fell?”

“Nope,” Ragnor said. He pointed at the scrawl in the centre, “But _that_ looks a bit like Chthonian, albeit only if the writer had _abysmal_ penmanship.”

Alec looked at Ragnor, surprised.

“A _demonic language_? But, how—.”

“Enough,” Diana cut him off, releasing the collar of Isabelle’s dress so that it again obscured the strange rune. “If, _after_ we have the princess in a proper bed, you still have questions, then we can address them in a timely manner. But right now, we need to move her somewhere safe so we can get a full assessment of her state.”

“Urg,” Ragnor said, standing up. He stretched his back with a loud _pop!_ and, speaking through a huge yawn, asked, “You’re going to need _me_ for that, aren’t you?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Eventually, yes, Warlock Fell, though there are things we must do before your services will be required.”

“Hmph,” Ragnor said, crossing his arms, “Well, at least there’s that. I’ll also need to prepare. Gather some materials, find some books. Honestly, healing isn’t really my specialty. I think I may need to contact an old friend about this one.”

Diana inclined her head in a small bow. “Thank you, Warlock Fell. We will call on you when we next require your assistance.”

“Hm,” Ragnor said, looking down at Isabelle with a considering expression. “I’ll send my bill later, then. Once the job ends, one way or the other.”

He turned away, throwing a careless wave over his shoulder as he went.

Jace glared after him.

“ _Cheapskate warlock_ ,” he muttered darkly.

Several of the palace healers arrived with a stretcher, and Diana sprang into action. She helped the healers move Isabelle onto the canvas fabric that lay between the two wooden poles, then instructed two of the burlier guards to carry her to the infirmary. They lifted her with little effort, and Jace immediately jumped to their aid, fretting over his sister and helpfully saying things like ‘careful!’ and ‘hold her steady!’ every few seconds as they began to make their way inside.

Alec stood more slowly, trailing after them and nodding at the guards that returned to their posts at the door, but he paused before he went inside.

The back of his neck prickled.

He glanced over his shoulder at where the high courtyard wall met the sky. There was no moon that night, making the dark all the more oppressive, and, for a moment, he thought he saw a flash of golden light atop the wall.

But then he blinked and there were only stars, winking at him innocently.

Alec watched for a moment more, then turned and went inside.

.o.O.o.

Alec spent the rest of the night in a flurry of activity. He joined the guards in sweeping the perimeter, double- and triple-checking that there were no intruders still on palace grounds. Once he was certain that the grounds were secure, he tracked down the guards who had found Isabelle and tried to establish a timeline.

Eventually, he determined that whoever had left Isabelle on their doorstep couldn’t have had more than a five-minute window to enter the palace grounds, leave her on the steps, and vanish without a trace. The wards hadn’t even been triggered. Alec made a note to figure out how that had happened, and to get it fixed as soon as possible.

Then he wrote a letter to his parents, the true monarchs of York. Besides the fact that they would likely care about what had happened to their daughter, if the attack on Isabelle had been an act of political aggression, or worse, _demonic_ aggression, then the king and queen of York should be informed immediately. He marked it as a message of great urgency, which required his royal seal, and sent it with their swiftest messenger.

At that point, dawn was still hours away, and when Alec could think of nothing else that he could do that night, he got up and made his way to the healer’s ward. He found Jace in the hallway outside the infirmary, slumped in a chair and snoring softly.

Alec stepped forward to knock on the door, then hesitated. Jace had likely been barred for a reason, and he didn’t want to get in the way—.

Before he could make up his mind over whether to knock or not, the door swung open, and he was looking into the startled face of one of Diana’s young apprentices.

“Oh!” She said, clearly surprised to see him. “I was just coming to get you. Healer Wrayburn says you can see your sister now?”

She didn’t sound certain, but Alec wasn’t about to stand there and question it. The young healer was barely able to jump out of his way as he rushed into the infirmary. Jace snored on behind him, oblivious to the world.

Isabelle was laying in the bed closest to the window that overlooked the royal gardens. She would have an excellent view of the cherry tree that was still in full bloom, had she been awake to enjoy it.

Her dress had been swapped for a loose hospital shift, which had the benefit of making her look less like a corpse, washed and ready for the funeral pyre, but also made her seem a little more broken.

Alec accepted the chair a healer offered him with a nod of thanks. The bedside table held a stack of what appeared to be numerous careful sketches of the strange rune on Isabelle’s chest. Alec took one, examining it carefully and comparing it to what he could see of the rune on Isabelle. Her hospital shift showed more of it than the dress had, and from what he could see, it was an incredibly accurate representation, with every line true to reality. He folded the sheet and tucked it into his jacket pocket, reasoning that it would make his research easier.

He covered Isabelle’s hand with his own; her fingers were cold against his palm.

“Alec,” Diana said as she approached. She took a seat beside him, face grim, and Alec straightened in his seat, steeling himself.

She started with the good news, explaining that Isabelle’s heart was strong, as was her breath, and that she was accepting runes well. She didn’t have any physical injuries, evidenced by the way any _iratze’_ s drawn onto her skin immediately faded away, unused.

The bad news was that they still didn’t know _what_ was wrong with her, exactly.

“It’s centred on the… the mark,” Diana said, gesturing at where Alec could see strange rune, “but her body isn’t recognizing the magic as foreign, probably because it has a runic interface. We have some people looking into this specific rune, as well as the Chthonian writing, but even Brother Enoch couldn’t untangle what it’s doing to her, exactly. Our best guess is that she’s just… _asleep_.”

“Asleep,” Alec echoed. He stared at Isabelle’s face, wondering if sleep could truly be so still. He had never known his sister to be anything but a fitful sleeper, tossing and turning throughout the night. When they were very young, whenever she crawled into his bed after a nightmare, she had been a menace of a bedfellow. Even if she didn’t snore loud enough to wake the dead, Alec could always be certain that she was well and truly asleep when she started kicking. _Hard_.

Now, even the slight rise and fall of her chest seemed to echo with stillness.

 _‘This cannot be sleep’_ , he decided, tightening his grip on her fingers.

Diana put a comforting hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“We’re doing everything we can,” she said, gazing at Isabelle with a worried knot between her brows. “I’ll need to call on Ragnor Fell again and see if he was able to get in touch with any of his contacts. We’ll need warlock help for this. Seelie too, if one can be found that’s willing to cooperate with us.”

Alec grimaced. Even at the best of times, downworlders didn’t like cooperating with the nephilim kingdoms of Idris. And now was _not_ the best of times. Warlocks could usually be persuaded with a little gold, but seelies were notoriously distrustful, not to mention untrustworthy.

For beings that couldn’t lie, they were remarkably good at deception.

“Prince Alexander,” Diana said. “There’s something else you should know.”

The title made Alec look up in surprise, though Diana wasn’t looking at him. She reached out and touched Isabelle’s forehead, an impersonal check for a fever that quickly turned into something more tender as she tucked an imaginary piece of hair away from Isabelle’s face.

“ _Alec_ ,” Diana corrected, more softly. “Alec. We can’t keep her alive in this state forever.”

Something caught in Alec’s throat. He withdrew his hand from Isabelle’s.

“I see,” he said, voice unwavering against all odds. “How long _can_ we keep her alive?”

Diana shook her head.

“I can’t give an exact answer; she won’t take any of the water or broth we give her, and that’s…. For now, _sustenance_ runes will stop her from starving, and _new blood_ runes will keep her hydrated, but those runes are only meant to be a temporary reprieve, not a way to _live_. They will slowly lose effectiveness over time until they stop working altogether.”

Alec clenched his hands into fists on his lap.

“How _long_?”

Diana hesitated. “Three weeks, maybe?” she said. “Perhaps a month, if she’s lucky.”

Alec closed his eyes. A month.

“What about a cure?” he asked, already knowing the answer. If Diana were optimistic about Isabelle’s condition, she wouldn’t have told him the prognosis.

“It’s…hard to say,” Diana said, “We still don’t know what’s exactly _wrong_ with her, after all. Hopefully, with the counsel of downworlder healers, we’ll get more actionable information, but until then…” Diana trailed off. The dark colour of her skin didn’t readily show the flush of blood, but she still managed to look sallow, as if something essential had been drawn out of her. Alec wasn’t used to Diana looking anything but professional and determined, and to be able to _see_ her worry told him that there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“Diana,” he pressed.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes wary.

“Alec,” she said at last. “You have to understand. Brother Enoch looked at her, and… it’s bad. It’s really bad. The magic is demonic and exceptionally powerful. Even if there’s some hope that the downworlders may know more than the Silent City, we need to face the possibility that maybe _no one_ can help her. We need to… make preparations.”

Alec’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood.

“Alec, wait—,” Diana’s hands flew out as if to push him back into his seat. He sidestepped her, already heading for the exit. “Where are you going?”

He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder.

“To speak with Ragnor Fell,” he said. “If the downworlders are our only hope of saving her, then to the downworlders I will go.”

He let the door swing shut behind him. At the click of the latch, Jace awoke with a start.

“Whassit?” he said, eyes bleary.

Alec didn’t stop to tell him.

.o.O.o.

Ragnor Fell lived amongst the mundanes of York, near the edge of the village that surrounded the palace. Alec had changed into his most plain clothing for the short trip, but he needn’t have bothered. It would still be hours until sunrise, and even the most industrious of workers wouldn’t be awake for some time. He still hadn’t seen another soul by the time he reached Ragnor Fell’s home.

The door was wrenched open before he got a chance to knock.

“Yes, yes,” Ragnor snapped, scowling, “What do you want?”

Alec bristled at his tone. For a long moment, he considered reprimanding the unpleasant warlock, but ultimately decided against it. It wasn’t as though the nephilim monarchy had any real power over warlocks, anyways.

“Ragnor Fell—,” Alec started, only to be interrupted.

“Tell Diana that I’ll be there in a _few hours_ ,” Ragnor said, speaking very quickly. “It took longer than expected to gather everything I need, and does she expect me to help the girl after a _near-sleepless night_? Healing magic is _complicated_ , so _excuse me_ if I need a few hours of rest before I can hope to do it with any amount of effectiveness. And have you ever tried to contact people in the middle of the night? It’s hard, ok? Because every _sane_ person is _sleeping,_ which means I could only find _insane_ people, and I _really_ don’t think you want Crazy Old Man Jenkins casting spells on royalty before sunrise—” Ragnor broke off from his rant, squinting at Alec with suspicion, “Diana _was_ the one who sent you, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Alec confirmed, taken aback. “I also wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright with you.”

Ragnor rolled his eyes. “Urg. As if I’m allowed to say _no._ Well, come in, then. No reason to freeze your arse on my doorstep when there’s a perfectly good place to sit just down the hall.”

“Er,” Alec said, glancing at Ragnor’s attire. The warlock was wearing a huge purple sweater that looked to be layered over half a dozen other sweaters, as well as a long red-and-green striped scarf that was looped around his neck numerous times. Alec had thought the night to have been unseasonably warm, but evidently, Ragnor didn’t agree. “That would be… agreeable. Thank you.”

Ragnor huffed but waved him in all the same. He shut the door firmly behind Alec, muttering a few words that sounded like a spell before leading him down a short hallway to a sitting room with a roaring fire in the hearth. It was stiflingly hot, and Alec could already feel the prickle of sweat beading on the back of his neck.

Ragnor walked to an overstuffed chair and stopped, glaring down at the seat, and Alec craned his neck to see what he was looking at. He blinked in surprise.

Curled in the chair, fast asleep, was a red fox. Its fur was matted with dirt and leaves, as if it had spent half the night rolling around in the forest, and it looked starkly out of place indoors.

Ragnor kicked the chair leg, making the whole seat jolt. The fox didn’t even twitch.

“Get up,” Ragnor said, fists on his hips, “I left for _maybe_ thirty seconds. There’s no way you’re actually asleep.”

The fox remained still for a few beats more before it huffed, eyes flicking open to glare at Ragnor.

“None of that,” Ragnor said with a shooing gesture that may have included a bit of magical prodding, “You’re in my seat. _Move._ ”

The fox stood with visible reluctance. Possibly in retaliation, it shook out its fur, sending dirt and bits of vegetation flying everywhere, before slipping soundlessly to the floor. It flicked an ear dismissively as Ragnor cursed at the mess, stretching its forelegs and arching its back into a wide yawn.

After shaking itself out a second time, it looked up at Alec as if noticing him for the first time. Alec stared back, uncertain. The fox had elliptical pupils, dilated wide in the dim room, and irises that were a strikingly bright shade of yellow. He hadn’t encountered too many foxes in his life, but he was sure that their eyes weren’t supposed to be _that_ bright.

Ragnor cleared the mess from the vacated chair with a swipe of magic before sitting down heavily. He let out a sigh of relief, summoning a steaming mug into his hand with a wave and a quiet _‘pop’_. He glanced at Alec and nodded at a spindly-looking couch that sat a bit further back from the flames.

“Well, sit down then. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea? The blood of the innocent?”

“Um. No, thank you,” Alec said, finally looking away from the fox so he could awkwardly perch on the very edge of the offered seat. The couch creaked ominously beneath him. “I was actually hoping you could tell me about the… _writing_ that was found on Isabelle.”

The fox chirped, apparently unhappy with being ignored, and jumped onto the couch next to Alec. It turned in a few circles before settling down and looking up at him with an expression that was downright _pleased_. Alec leaned away from it. He wasn’t sure what the animal wanted from him, so, to be safe, he carefully ignored it.

Ragnor glared at the fox, taking a long slurp from his tea before getting to business. “Demonic languages aren’t really my specialty, but I suppose I can cross-reference it with some of my books…” he let go of the steaming mug, letting it drop towards his lap, and Alec automatically flinched as if to catch it.

He needn’t have bothered: it turned into a leather-bound tome before it could fall so much as an inch, and Ragnor caught it and flipped it open to an apparently random page without any visible effort. “I assume you have a copy of the rune with you?”

Alec nodded and pulled the folded sheet of paper from his pocket. It was as good of a copy that Ragnor could hope for, so when he handed it over, Alec wasn’t sure what to make of the warlock’s wrinkled nose, glancing between the book and the drawing with an air of annoyance.

“Is something the matter?” Alec asked, trying to keep his voice pleasant.

“Hm,” Ragnor said, lip curling as he glanced at Alec from under his brows, “I suppose _you_ transcribed this?”

Alec bristled, “As a matter of fact, I did _not_ ,” he said, crossing his arms, “but I _did_ check the quality of this sketch, and I assure you, it is an _exact_ replica of the real thing.”

Ragnor’s annoyed expression dropped away in an instant; he squinted as he looked back and forth between the two pages. “ _Exactly,_ you say?”

“Yes, I’m certain of it,” Alec said. “Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“Not exactly _wrong_ , per se. Just… inexperienced,” Ragnor said. The fox finally looked away from Alec, ears perked forward in interest as Ragnor flipped a few more pages, lightning-fast, before coming to an abrupt stop. “Here,” he said, placing the book down on the table between them and turning it to face Alec, “The first few letters of this word here are the same. Do you see how the writing in the book is different from the rune?”

The fox stood up as if Ragnor had been talking to _it_ rather than to Alec, glancing between where Ragnor was pointing in the book and the sketch, as if this were a perfectly ordinary thing for a fox to do. Alec was fairly certain that foxes couldn’t read, but he was also in a warlock’s home and so he assumed that this fox was magical in some way. Probably, the fox was Ragnor’s familiar (although Alec had always assumed that only _witches_ had familiars, not warlocks. He’d also assumed that familiars would generally get along with their… owners, but Alec was beginning to suspect that Ragnor Fell didn’t get along with anyone).

Alec leaned to the side to try and see past the fox’s inquiring snout. Comparing the two bits of writing, he _supposed_ the sketch showed the letters as a little more angular, the curves less smooth or a little more exaggerated, but it didn’t seem to be a dramatic difference to him.

“I believe I see it,” he said, “Is that not simply a difference in handwriting?”

The fox sat up suddenly, yipping a few times and sounding like a dog with laryngitis. Ragnor used the back of his hand to push the fox backwards, forcing it to sit on the couch again.

“Quiet,” Ragnor said to the fox, nose wrinkled, “No one asked _you_.” He turned back to Alec with a long-suffering expression that Alec thought might have meant to convey something along the lines of ‘ _foxes, amirite?’_. Alec frowned, but didn’t comment.

Ragnor nodded at the book. “There’s differences in handwriting, and then there’s writing like a _child_ who’s just learned the alphabet,” Ragnor tapped the paper, “In any writing systems, there’s something of a learning curve for beginners. Time and practice are needed to gain muscle memory and confidence, which is what develops into an individual’s handwriting. Before that, novices tend to make similar mistakes, like how all children’s writing looks more or less the same.”

Alec glanced between the two scripts again, not quite sure what he was looking for, but, maybe, from the way the lines shook a bit, as if the writer had hesitated, perhaps uncertain of the next step…

“Okay, so what does that mean for the curse?” Alec asked. The fox made a cat-like _mrooow_ , which Alec thought could have been a noise of agreement.

Ragnor took back the book, flipping through a few more pages.

“It’s hard to say. I’m only a little familiar with Chthonian script, as far as using it for specific spells are concerned, but the vocabulary and grammar are confusing to me. I’ve always made do with copying the works of others,” the fox made a laugh-like chuffing sound, earning another glare from Ragnor, “Oh, shut up. It’s not like _you_ can talk, Mr. make-it-up-as-I-go,” Ragnor turned back to Alec without missing a beat. “But, from what I’m seeing here, I believe that the curse was meant to be fatal.”

“ _What_?” Alec said, looking between the book and page wildly, “But she’s not – what makes you think – is Isabelle–.”

“Now, now, calm down,” Ragnor chided. He tapped on the sketch, near the beginning of the word. “This seems to be a variant of the word _death_ , and I _believe_ this bit here is supposed to make it an imperative verb. So, ‘ _go die’,_ might be a translation?” he frowned, “Or maybe _‘murder’_? I always forget if this dot means the verb is applied to the subject or to someone else,” the fox barked. Ragnor nodded, “Ah, you’re absolutely right. So, it’s ‘ _go die’_ , then. The rest is a bit more ambiguous. I _think_ this means ‘eternity’, but it’s not the usual form of the word.” Ragnor picked up the book again, flipping through a few pages. He paused, squinting at a page, “Or maybe it’s… ‘ _sky’_? No, that’s not right… ‘ _air_ ’?”

“ _Okay_ ,” Alec said loudly, cutting off Ragnor’s musings, “So, it was intended to kill her, but it didn’t. What does that _mean_?”

Ragnor’s expression sobered. He closed the book carefully and set it aside.

“Well, for one, it means that we shouldn’t magically tinker with the curse itself too much,” he said, “If we don’t know _exactly_ what we’re doing, then we might accidentally… _fix_ it. Which, in this case, would be bad. The fact it didn’t work as intended, combined with the inexperienced writing, tells me that this was probably… experimental.”

Alec frowned, “So, Isabelle was, what, a _test run_?”

Ragnor shrugged. “Probably. But this presents a whole new problem. Ideally, we’d want to find a counter-curse, so that we wouldn’t have to risk any unexpected consequences. But counter-curses are almost always created in tandem with the curse it is meant to be used _against_ , usually as insurance or a bargaining chip. If this curse is experimental, then that means there _is_ no built-in counter-curse. At least not one that will work for this draft of it. It would be like trying to fix a square wagon wheel by replacing its spokes: a solution to an entirely separate problem.”

The fox made another sound, deep in its chest, and turned to gaze at Alec. He tried to ignore the way the yellow of its eyes seemed to glow in the firelight.

“So, then, what?” Alec asked. “That’s it? There’s nothing we can do?”

“I didn’t say there was _nothing_ we could do,” Ragnor said, “Just that the preferred treatment isn’t going to be an option this time.”

“Ok,” Alec said, leaning forward, “Then what’s the non-preferred treatment?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Ragnor said, vanishing the book on Chthonian with a snap of his fingers. Another snap, and he was holding his steaming mug again. “Some sort of cure-all would probably work, but I wouldn’t bet on finding one. They’re exceptionally rare, and most are single-use, which of course makes them even rarer. Everyone wants something that will solve all their ills and woes, but not everyone can get it. It’s quite tragic, really.”

Alec grit his teeth. He vaguely recalled a childhood story about a pendant with magical healing powers saving the life of a Herondale many generations ago, but in all versions of that story, the pendent had been destroyed in the process.

“There has to be _something_ we could find.”

Twin points of pressure on his leg made Alec startle, turning to find the fox had placed its two front paws on his lap to get closer to him, black nose twitching as it scented his neck. Alec flinched back at the touch of the cool nose, not unlike that of a dog, only to freeze, nose-to-nose, as their gazes met.

The fox stared at him with those oddly vibrant eyes (too vibrant, Alec decided. He tried to picture the eyes of ordinary foxes in his mind. This fox’s eyes were pure liquid honey where they should have been ochre). Its gaze was far too knowing for his comfort.

Suddenly it turned to Ragnor and made a fast-paced gekkering, which sounded like a squeaky iron gate begin rapidly opened and closed. Ragnor’s expression turned surprised.

“You mean—Really? To _him_? Are you sure?”

The fox chuffed, bouncing on its front paws once as if punctuating its words. Ragnor nodded quickly.

“Alright, alright, let me just—.”

He waved a hand and, an instant later, was holding a thin book bound in yellow-orange paper.

Ragnor held the book out to Alec, who took it hesitantly, half expecting it to vanish the moment it was in his hands. It remained solid, though more lightweight than he had expected. One corner had a brown stain, perhaps from a tea spill, but otherwise, the cover was blank. He flipped it open to the first page, which had the word _Panaceas_ scrawled across it in casual handwriting and, underneath, the initials _M.B_.

Alec flipped through a few pages to find point-form lists written in shorthand, several sketches of plants, and one or two sloppily drawn maps.

“That’s a journal of sorts,” Ragnor said, settling back into his chair, “Put together by a damn fool who wouldn’t leave me alone for some reason. He said he was trying to untangle the rumours from the true cures. I told him he was on a hiding to nothing, but he decided to be a stubborn bastard about it.”

Alec stopped on a page that was taken up with a detailed sketch of a snake holding several leaves in its mouth. Underneath, someone had written, in an increasingly agitated scrawl:

_Snake leaves? Grass? Herbs? Which snakes? Where snakes??? Can’t I just find the plant without the snake???? Ineffective against magic, but works with physical wounds, apparently?????????????? **N.B.: snakes are assholes**_

“There’s a lot of question marks in here,” Alec noted, turning to another page that depicted several drawings of lily-like plants. The fox chuffed, leaning forward to look at the pages, and Alec tilted the book towards it without thinking. It leaned against his arm comfortably.

Ragnor shrugged, summoning his tea back into his hand with a lazy gesture.

“Yes, well, when you’re working with more rumour than fact, there tends to be quite a bit of uncertainty,” Ragnor nodded at the book, “You can keep that, if you’d like.”

Alec started, staring at Ragnor incredulously. “But, your friend—.”

“Has no use for it now,” Ragnor interrupted, “Besides, I’m not convinced he found a single useful thing to put in that damned book. I’ve been meaning to burn it for a while now.”

The fox’s looked at Ragnor sharply, letting out a soft growl. Ragnor’s expression fell.

“Right,” Ragnor said, apparently admonished, “Well, maybe not _burn_ it, but…” Ragnor sighed. “How about you just borrow it, then? Try to get it back to me, but if you can’t,” Ragnor trailed off, shrugging. He took a long slurp from his tea.

Alec looked at the fox, bewildered, but it just looked up at him with its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth in a foxy grin.

“I…,” Alec cleared his throat, turning and inclining his head to Ragnor, “Thank you. This is most generous.”

Ragnor scoffed. “Yeah, sure. _Generous,_ ” he muttered into his tea, “it’s not like I work for _free._ ”

“Of course,” Alec said, getting to his feet and bowing stiffly at the waist, the book tucked under his arm. “Thank you for your help. Diana will provide you with your payment, plus extra for your kindness. It will be ready for you when you arrive at the palace today.”

“Hm,” Ragnor said, crossing his legs, “She had better. I detest chasing after what is owed to me.”

He didn’t get up, and Alec assumed this meant he would have to show himself out. He turned to do so, but paused at the sitting room’s doorway, glancing back at the fox.

It was still staring at him, yellow eyes keen. Alec inclined his head in farewell and then turned and walked out of the warlock’s home. The door swung closed behind him, but before it slammed shut Alec caught a few final words from Ragnor.

“ _Honestly_ , Magnus, the problems you stick me with—.”

The lock clicked into place, and all of a sudden, the house was as dark and silent as any abandoned shack.

.o.O.o.

The book wasn’t as helpful as Alec had hoped it would be. He spent the last few hours of the night doing his best to read through as many purported cures as he could, and none of them seemed to tell him anything actionable.

There was the sap of a tree that grew atop mountains ( _location unknown_ ), the stamen of a flower that bloomed at the bottom of icy gorges ( _location unknown_ ), mushrooms that were found in caves deep beneath the earth and supposedly glowed( _location_ **_unknown_** ) _,_ pools of water on legendary islands that cured anyone who bathed in them ( ** _location unknown_** _; though presumably near the ocean_), and even a healing fire that made you invincible to all physical blows ( _location: ????? **nowhere**?????_).

In addition to the original writing, the margins were full of notes, with words circled and underlined and crossed out and re-written. The few drawings were detailed but rushed, and the majority of the pages had inky thumbprints smudged along their edges.

About half the book was dedicated to potion-making, and it was this part that had the most notes, sometimes to the point of illegibility. The readable pages had lists of ingredients (mostly common herbs) and instructions to combine them in specific orders at specific times, though even the least altered recipes bore evidence of heavy revision.

Most of the potion recipes had been crossed out, so Alec imagined that the original writer of the journal had already given those ones a try. Based on the aggression with which the huge X’s seemed to have been drawn, Alec assumed that none of them had worked.

He paused at one of these xed-out recipes, eyes scanning the page. Frowning, Alec touched a word that had been scribbled out with such violence that he could feel the imprint of it under his fingers.

This research had been done in a panic, Alec realized. The writer hadn’t been pursuing a passion project, or even looking for answers in exchange for coin. No, Alec was willing to bet that they had been trying to find a cure for something specific, something _personal_.

Which meant that, if they had succeeded, they probably wouldn’t have continued to log their research after finding the _real_ cure.

Alec flipped to the back of the book.

The last few pages were blank, probably added in the anticipation of more work yet to be done, but the last page that _had_ been filled was a continuation of a list of magical creatures that supposedly had healing abilities.

The first line read: “ _Unicorn: said to heal the pure of heart_ ” followed by a line, written in a much more panicked, chaotic hand: “ ** _NO_** _!!!!!! **WILL** try to kill you, **WILL** try to stab you, **do NOT approach**!!!!!!!!_”

Alec breathed a laugh, trying to imagine what might have happened between the first and second lines. The stories always depicted unicorns as peaceful creatures, said to be drawn to those who were pure of heart, untainted by sin. Alec wondered if that meant the author was ‘tainted’, or just that unicorns had unusually high standards of what qualified as ‘pure of heart.’

He went down the list, noting each of the creatures and the notes beside them.

A species of healer mermaids that may or may not grant immortality to those who ate their flesh ( _some guy tried a few years ago. Not only did he not become immortal, he was also **ripped apart** by vengeful water sprites_), a mythical dog, purportedly the companion of a goddess, who could heal any wound it was allowed to lick (???? _infection_????), and a maybe-dragon maybe-amphibian whose blood could regrow lost limbs ( _blood is **literally acid**_ ).

Alec stopped at the final creature listed.

_Golden bird. Song heals (“fixes”???). Lots of different names (caladrius, adarna, haridruva, simurgh…) that may all refer to the same thing, but then again, maybe not. Someone said a phoenix is the same thing, too, but I’ve heard phoenixes sing and they do NOT have a pleasant voice. Tenuous grip on reality. What are “doorways”? All rumours point to the Red King._

The final two words looked as though their letters had been traced multiple times by an anxious pen.

Alec touched the page. He couldn’t be sure whether the writer of this journal had stopped writing because he had found the cure he’d sought, or if he hadn’t had the chance to continue after an encounter with the Red King.

If what Alec had heard of the cruel ruler, it was most likely the latter.

The “Red King” wasn’t his real name, of course. Just an epithet that was said to have something to do with bloodshed. His parents referred to him as _King Valentine_ _of Vorios_.

Alec rested his head on the blank page opposite to the list of beasts, exhaling harshly through his nose. It wasn’t much to go on, barely more than nothing, and they didn’t have _time_ for a trip to the Red King’s domain. Reaching Vorios was at least a month’s trip, if one pushed their horses as hard as possible, and Isabelle couldn’t last that long. It wasn’t worth the wrath of the notoriously temperamental Red King to find a possible cure that would be too late, even if it _could_ cure Isabelle.

The room blurred at the edges as Alec lifted his head, and he blinked hard to try and clear his vision. The sky outside the study’s east-facing window was beginning to lighten, cheerfully announcing that Alec had managed to stay awake the whole night through, and he could feel the sleepless hours like a physical weight on his shoulders.

Alec sighed, leaning back in his chair. He considered retreating to his chambers to snatch what meagre scraps of sleep he could manage, but he knew his own mind; with the way his thoughts were rushing, like grains of sand falling through an hourglass, he would never be allowed the peace of rest.

He looked down at the journal, the scrawled words even less legible for his bleary eyes, and decided that he would pay his sister a visit. Perhaps Diana had thought of something new in light of Ragnor’s information, or perhaps the other healer, Warlock Loss, had finally arrived. He had been told that they would alert him immediately if there were any news, but he knew Diana well enough to be fairly certain that she would have held off in the hopes that he would sleep instead.

Alec flicked the journal shut and, after a moment of consideration, tucked it under his arm before standing. Perhaps, if Diana were feeling uncharacteristically lenient, she would allow him to read silently at Isabelle’s bedside. If nothing else, it soothed his anxieties to keep the book close, even though he wasn’t yet sure if it would yield any useful information.

The halls were all but empty, and Alec’s footsteps echoed in the silence as he approached the infirmary. He slipped inside, nodding respectfully to Diana’s disapproving frown, and turned towards where one of the apprentices was dabbing Isabelle’s face with a damp cloth.

That was when the music began.

The first note stopped Alec in his tracks, its sound clearer and brighter than any that had ever been played by his mother’s most favoured musicians. It held for a long beat and was followed by three notes in quick succession, each falling slightly. Alec blinked a few times, trying to determine what kind of music he was hearing, as it was no instrument he recognized, when the apprentice screamed.

Isabelle bolted upright.

“ _No!_ ” she yelled, striking out in front of herself blindly. The bowl was knocked from the apprentice’s hands with such force that the contents was splattered up the wall and across the window.

Before Alec could react, three runed healers were on Isabelle, grabbing her by the arms and trying to hold her back from assaulting the young apprentice further. She shrieked and struggled, the sound hardly registering beneath the continued song that overlaid everything is a hazy warmth.

Isabelle threw out an elbow that caught one of the healers on the chin. Two more joined the effort to restrain her.

Her breath was coming in short, quick puffs, and her eyes darted around the room like those of a panicked horse, finally settling on Alec, who still stood, dumbfounded, a few feet away. For a moment she froze, her face clearing into understanding.

The healers continued to try to push her down. Isabelle hardly seemed to notice; sitting tall, she didn’t look away from Alec.

“Brother,” she said, voice a scratching rattle that only sounded worse against the continuing song, “I don’t have much time.”

“Isabelle!” Alec said, the book falling to the floor with a _thud_ as he scrambled to her side, reaching out to _help_ her, _touch_ her, make sure this was _real_ , _anything_ , “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not,” she said, lip trembling like she was once again a child with a skinned knee, “The rune. It’s the rune. They’ve been experimenting, and I don’t know _why_ , but you need to—.”

The music suddenly stopped, and Isabelle’s voice cut short, her eyes clouding over. She slumped like a marionette with its strings cut, falling back into her pillow, eased by the hands of several exclaiming healers.

“Isabelle!” Alec said, reaching out to shake her shoulder roughly, “ _Isabelle_!”

She did not stir.

The healers pulled Alec back, even as he fought them. He looked around wildly, trying to find Diana so he could ask what the _hell_ had just happened, when a flash of colour outside the window caught his eye.

It was a bird. He blinked when he saw it, wondering if the colour was just a trick of the pink-tinted sunrise. But even as he stared, the bird’s feathers only grew brighter and more dazzling. Its breast feathers were an outrageous shade of pink, with wings that were a blazing shade of orange, tipped in liquid gold. As Alec watched, the bird flicked its tail with a flash of metallic feathers, hopping along the branch until the sun hit it so that its entire body was ablaze with golden light. It was the dawn made alive.

And then, with a final burst of gold, it took flight.

Alec watched it fly due north, growing smaller and smaller until it vanished into the pale pink sky.

None of the healers seemed to have noticed the bird. They were still calling Isabelle’s name and trying to figure out what had just happened, whispering to one another with wide, shocked eyes. Alec barely heard it.

On the floor, the panacea book had fallen open where he’d dropped it, and in his mind’s eye, Alec saw one name blaze brighter than all the rest.

_The Golden Bird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeeze, am I writing fanfiction for the first time since highschool??? YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!!!
> 
> I’ve been on a fantasy & folklore kick for, oh, about my entire life, and I was reading some old stories when I came across one that grabbed me by the throat and drop-kicked me into one hell of a writing spiral. Probably most people will be able to guess what story it is real soon (if they haven’t figured it out already), but I like to think I have a pretty fresh take on it.
> 
> Malec was the only acceptable pairing for this torture, because magic and wonder and secrets and love?????? Hell yeah. I’m ready to SUFFER.
> 
> feat. Jace as comic relief. I don't hate him or anything, but he's just so easy to make fun of. It's like his personality has a punchable face or something.
> 
> So, I'm writing this. BUT, I know me, and I know what I’m like, so this time, I wrote the whole damn thing as a first draft before publishing this first chapter.
> 
> That’s right: this story is finished!
> 
> As a first draft.
> 
> Or, at least it’s mostly finished. Not gonna lie, there are parts where I just put a bunch of question marks and skipped because SOMETIMES CREATIVITY DOESN’T WORK GOOD. Hopefully, inspiration doesn’t fail me when the time comes???
> 
> But yeah. Here we go. No beta, though I would heckin' appreciate one if someone wants to volunteer as tribute. 
> 
> I am excited! And afraid. But mostly excited!
> 
> Some notes:  
> I know Magnus has CAT eyes, but I like foxes, and for my forest-nature-fairytail-fantasy I think a fox fits better. Plus, foxes have slit pupils and can have gold(ish) eyes, so I’m going to let myself have this 😉
> 
> Here's a pic of a gold-eyed fox: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cd/15/cb/cd15cb9cae99a014c5cc0c3ccba77a71.jpg
> 
> Here’s a video of two “gekkering” foxes, in case youre like me and have no idea what that sounds like: https://youtu.be/JKHZ201aLX0  
> …


	2. The Magic Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leads followed, dreams had, and it's that damned fox again!!

**Chapter 2: The Magic Bird**

_“Hold fast to dreams,_

_For if dreams die_

_Life is a broken-winged bird,_

_That cannot fly.”_

_\- Langston Hughes_

.o.O.o.

Isabelle could take broth now.

Alec felt something loosen in his chest at the news. It wasn’t the miraculous full recovery he had prayed for, but this would buy them precious time.

Now that he knew the Golden Bird definitely existed, Alec spent the entire day researching, looking for any kernel of information he could uncover. Jace had been enthusiastic, enough so that he offered his help in reading, but had ended up falling asleep twenty minutes into his first book. Alec tried not to take it personally; he knew that Jace preferred to overwork himself on his multi-day demon hunts, then return to the castle and sleep through several days. In all likelihood, he had already been at the end of his strength when he had arrived last night to find Isabelle.

Alec turned the page to a map of The Idris Empire.

It had turned out that they only had two scant books on the bird, under the name “caladrius”, in their collection, both of which Alec had read and re-read within the first hour. He kept the book of panaceas close, and spent some time searching for mentions of the bird’s other names. Sadly, nothing could be found, save for a few mentions that never led anywhere useful, and after some time he had to give up on finding information about the bird directly.

And so, Alec had begun to research the Red King of Vorios.

In light of Isabelle’s improvement, the months-long journey was a more surmountable barrier, but Alec wasn’t one to run in blindly.

York and Vorios were both a part of the same Idris Empire, but each city-state operated largely independently within the Empire, so they didn’t actually have much information on their northern fellows. Alec found a few brief mentions in a history book, some records of trading grain, cheese, and lavender throughout the years, and one extremely old treaty, from even before the Empire, in which York agreed to come to Vorios’ aid if it were ever attacked by outside forces.

The most information, by far, was from rumours and word-of-mouth.

It was considered common knowledge that Red King had gotten his throne through bloody betrayal. The former king, Valentine’s uncle, had supposedly been killed by foreign rebels, but no faction claimed responsibility, and Valentine’s ascension to the throne had been suspiciously smooth for such a violently abrupt change in leadership. Yet, while foul play was generally assumed to have occurred, to accuse Valentine of this directly would likely be seen as grounds for war, which Valentine was _not_ shy of waging.

Alec was making his way through a questioning of a refugee that claimed to have fled to York from Vorios ( _The fires of hell burn in his eyes, I swear it!_ ) when his eyes began to ache. He glanced at the top of the entry, where it was marked as ‘ _unsubstantiated’_ and ‘ _a_ _likely fabrication’,_ and wondered if that meant the refugee had been sent on to the next city-state to try their luck.

Alec put the report aside, rubbing his face. Next to him, Jace snorted in his sleep, shifting slightly, and Alec leaned back in his chair to watch him.

Jace had reason to be tired, it was true, but suddenly Alec was all too aware that he himself had _also_ had a near-sleepless night.

Alec closed his eyes for a moment. Exhaustion hovered at the margins of his awareness, demanding his attention. He wouldn’t make any useful progress when he could hardly keep his eyes open, he reasoned, and no one would fault him a short nap.

He flipped the folder holding reports closed with a quiet _thwap_ and made his way over to the chaise lounge that sat beside the window of the study. It was meant as a reading spot, but he had learned from his time as a student that it was a dangerously comfortable seat. He wasn’t sure he had ever sat in it and _not_ fallen asleep.

He sank into the cushions and was asleep in moments.

.o.O.o.

He dreamed of Ragnor’s fox.

It sat atop his chest nose-to-nose with Alec as it stared him down with those haunting golden eyes. Alec stared back, unconcerned.

“Hello,” Alec said, reaching up to touch the fox’s ear. It flicked back at his touch, expression amused.

The fox opened its mouth and, as casual as you please, started to speak with the voice of a man.

“Prince Alexander,” it said, “I didn’t think _you_ would be the sleeping beauty of this story.”

Alec blinked at the fox. It blinked back.

“Oh,” Alec said, uncertain, “Um. I apologize?”

“No, no,” the fox said, shaking its head, “Don’t be _sorry,_ my dear. It is no bother to me. In fact, I have news.”

Alec reached for the fox’s ear again. This time, it allowed his touch, and he ran a finger up and down the silky black fur.

“Mmhmm,” Alec said, smiling at the fox, “Thank you.”

The fox chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled against Alec’s chest.

“I haven’t even told you if it’s _good_ news yet!” it said.

Alec shrugged and lightly pinched the tip of the fox’s ear between his thumb and forefinger.

“I trust you,” he said, “I’m sure any news you give me will be to my benefit to know.”

The fox pulled its head back. Alec let his arm fall to his side, suddenly worried that he had hurt it somehow. But, no, the fox’s eyes were still alight with kindness.

“You honour me with your trust,” the fox said. It leaned forward and, carefully, licked Alec’s cheek.

Alec smiled, fully intending to thank the fox again, but his tongue was too heavy to form words. The world was already becoming unfocused, everything turning blue and purple and glow-y, and the fox began to fade away. Alec blinked, and where the fox had been, a man took his place, his hip perched on the seat beside Alec and his arm propped on the armrest on the opposite side.

He was a very beautiful man, with brown skin and black hair that stood upright, as if he had ridden his horse along the seashore, the wind and salt sculpting the locks up and away from his face.

Alec met the man’s eyes, which were bright gold and slit pupiled. They were tilted up at the corners in a distinctive way that Alec’s mother commonly called “the eyes of the fox.” Whenever Alec had heard her comment on such a feature in the past, she spoken with a tone of disdain, as if people with such eyes could be trusted as much as a fox in a henhouse.

But no one had ever had eyes so fox-like as this man, and Alec knew at once that the man and the fox were one and the same. If Alec hadn’t known from the eyes alone, then he would have known when the man’s lips parted and he spoke with the fox’s voice.

“The Golden Bird,” he said, “It will come again with the next sunrise, and once more the day after that. It won’t be enough, but that is all I can guarantee you.”

“Hmm,” Alec muttered. The dream was beginning to crumble around him, the mans face becoming misty at the edges. “Good. That’ll— good. Thank you.”

The man leaned forward and cupped Alec’s face in his hand. Alec leaned into the touch without thinking, blinking up at the man as he smiled sadly.

Without moving his lips, the man’s voice whispered from all directions as the world went black.

“Thank _you_ , Alexander. Rest well.”

Hours later, Alec awoke to discover that someone had placed a blanket over him while he’d slept. He blinked in the mid-afternoon light, and the dream faded from his memory like the dew fades from the morning grass.

.o.O.o.

Alec assigned several of his more discreet servants to the task of looking for more information on the bird and Vorios, then spent the rest of the day on administrative tasks.

It felt strange to do something as mundane as approving requests for funds while Isabelle was so unwell, but Alec knew that the lives and needs of his kingdom didn’t stop just because _he_ was in crisis. Thanks to his morning of reading and napping, he was already behind on his tasks, and it was only thanks to his aid, Underhill, that he was able to get everything done that day.

Alec tried to thank Underhill for the help but was quickly waved off.

“This is my _job_ , your highness,” Underhill said, grinning as he bumped Alec’s shoulder with his own, “Honestly, you don’t give me _enough_ to do most days, with your insistence on handling everything yourself.”

“Is that so?” Alec said, mouth quirking, “Then I suppose I should give you all of the calving records this year. Let _you_ work out all the math.”

Underhill chuckled. “I’ll have you know, sir, that it would warm my heart to have you trust me with the calving records.”

Alec and Underhill shared a moment of warm comradery before they went their separate ways; Alec to the infirmary to check on Isabelle again, and Underhill, presumably, to his rooms.

Alec liked Underhill. He did his work effectively and efficiently and had earned Alec’s trust time and time again. He also wasn’t terrible to look at, with grey-blue eyes and soft, dark blond curls. The only marks against him, according to Alec’s mother, were the undignified rumours that circulated about him. Supposedly, he had taken several lovers in the past, which wouldn’t normally be of note, except that they were all _male_ lovers.

Alec still didn’t know if those rumours were true, and he hadn’t asked Underhill about them. When his mother had questioned Underhill’s continued presence in the palace, Alec had stated that competent, trustworthy allies were always in short supply, and that to dismiss one due to unsubstantiated rumours would be, at best, a waste and, at worst, utterly foolish.

His mother had accepted this explanation, but Izzy, who had been listening to the whole thing while pretending to read in the corner, had peaked over her book with a knowing smile.

Alec had flushed under her gaze.

“What?” he’d demanded.

“Nothing,” she’d said innocently, still smiling. “It’s just… he _is_ quite handsome. Isn’t he?”

Alec hadn’t answered, but he had walked away with a feeling that they were both perfectly aware of what his _true_ reasoning was regarding Underhill. After all, Alec was not unsympathetic to Underhill’s woes.

Alec entered the infirmary with a wave to the on-duty healers, eyes already falling to where Isabelle laid on the crisp white sheets.

 _No one else has ever known_ , Alec thought, reaching out to touch the back of her hand. He had spent years building his disguises, and his sister had been the only one smart enough, the only one who _loved_ him enough, to see through it.

The thought of that number going back down to zero was not a comforting one.

.o.O.o.

The bird returned the next day at sunrise.

Alec and Jace were sitting on the opposite side of Isabelle’s bed from the window so that, when Alec looked up from the book on Chthonic he was reading, he could see into the garden and, more importantly, the branch where the bird had perched last time. 

Diana had tried to get them both to return to their rooms for some rest the night before, but they wouldn’t be swayed, and this time there was no medical reason Diana could think of to keep the princes away.

So, Alec and Jace had set up watch in the infirmary for the night, periodically catching snatches of rest on one of the unoccupied beds, but otherwise making their way through still more books. At this point, Alec was fairly certain they had found everything useful in the castle, but the only thing worse than doing something pointless was doing nothing at all, so he kept reading.

Alec sighed, considering another nap, when he looked up from his page and froze.

There, on the same branch as yesterday, glinting in the first rays of morning, was that damned bird. It was preening its breast feathers, puffed up in the chill of the morning, and looked for all the world like it had been painted with all the colours of the sunrise.

Alec was just opening his mouth to point the bird out to Jace when it straightened out and began to sing.

Music, clear and sweet, filled the air. Alec’s heart stuttered in his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t even move. The moment was broken, however, when Isabelle bolted upright, sucking in a ragged gasp as if she had been drowning and had only now breached the water’s surface.

The motion made Jace jerk awake from his light doze, and Isabelle and Jace blinked at one another for a few long seconds before Isabelle cried out in joy and threw her arms around her brother. Jace embraced her back so tightly that Alec was about to tell him to go easy on their sickly sister when he finally released her.

The bird flicked its tail as it sang, drawing Alec’s eye back to the window. Isabelle must have noticed him staring, because she followed his gaze and, a moment later, was half jumping out of her bed. Alec was barely able to grab her before she fell backwards. She tried to say something but immediately broke into a fit of coughs.

“Jace!” Alec barked, helping Isabelle sit up against the force of her coughs, “Go and get that bird, and don’t hurt it.”

“Bird?” Jace repeated, still looking a bit sleep-addled. He looked out the window and jerked upright at the sight of the outrageously coloured bird, jumping to his feet and running out the door.

Diana arrived just then with a cup of water for Isabelle, who took it gratefully. After a few deep swallows and a second cup of water, downed just as fast, she finally looked at Alec.

“It’s here,” Isabelle said, looking dazed. Alec frowned, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.

“What’s here? The bird?” he asked. He didn’t want to look away from her eyes. He had been so sure, just two days ago, that he would never see them open again.

“The bird,” Isabelle agreed, looking out the window to where the bird continued to sing, “I’ve heard of it before. They liked to call it the Sun Sparrow, I think as a joke,” she pressed a hand to her chest, over where the rune was. “I think… I think they summoned it here.”

“Who summoned it here?” Alec asked, incredulous, “Who are ‘ _they_ ’?”

Isabelle visibly hesitated, blinking hard a few times as if trying to clear her vision.

“I don’t— is it really you? The dreams, I—I’ve spoken to you so many times, told you so many things, but you never remember. I don’t know… I don’t—what have I already told you?”

“Izzy,” Alec said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s ok. Just tell me: where did you hear about the bird?”

“From friends,” she said at last, “Ones that I know I can trust. They helped me when…”

She trailed off, biting her lip.

“When…?” Alec pressed.

She fisted her hands in the sheets, “Oh, Alec. I’ve gotten myself into some trouble,” she said, her voice teary. “I thought I could handle it on my own, but I couldn’t, I _can’t_. This is all my fault.”

Alec put his hand over hers, making her loosen her grip.

“OK,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “We’ll take care of it. Just tell me what you need.”

She sniffled, but still offered him a shaky smile.

“Thanks, big brother. I can always count on you.”

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the window, making them both turn to look. Jace had obtained a butterfly net from somewhere and was trying to reach the bird with it, his favoured hunting hound circling the tree and barking.

Jace snapped the net down; It fell a good few arms-lengths away from the bird, which hopped a little further along the branch, singing without pause. Jace scowled, shouting something at a guard who had accompanied him before tossing the butterfly aside and rushing to the trunk of the tree, clearly intent on climbing it. The moment he touched the trunk, however, the bird went silent as it took flight.

The moment the song stopped, Isabelle went limp, and Alec looked down to find that she had again fallen into her cursed sleep. A few tears escaped down her cheeks.

Outside, Jace swore, kicking the base of the tree and then yelping in pain. Alec sighed, standing up from Isabelle’s bedside and moving to open the window. It swung open with a shriek of seldom-used hinges, and Alec leaned forward, intending to tell Jace to come back inside, when he was interrupted by the hound’s furious barking.

Alec was about to tell Jace to _control his damn dog_ when it suddenly stopped, ears perked. Its nose twitched, and after a moment it turned, growling, towards one of the rhododendron bushes.

There was a moment of stillness, and then all hell broke loose.

A streak of orange jumped from the bushes, dodging the hound snapping jaws, and sprinting for the briar patch at the far side of the garden. The dog went mad, barking and chasing the animal, managing to cut it off from its intended target and forcing it up into an apple tree.

The animal was able to climb the tree with ease, but the dog could only bark and uselessly scrape its trimmed nails against the bark. The tree, however, was a young one, and it shook under the large dog’s paws.

The animal was a fox, and it was clinging to its perch desperately as the entire tree swayed beneath it. The fox barked, a sound like a dog when someone steps on its tail, and looked up at the second-floor window where Alec was leaning from, open-mouthed.

Its eyes were bright gold.

Before Alec knew what he was doing, he had a foot up on the windowsill and, ignoring Diana’s startled shout, launched himself from the window. His _agility_ , _strength_ , and _equilibrium_ runes were permanent, always slightly activated beneath his skin, and so it took barely any effort for him to reach out, snag one of the cherry tree’s branches, and use it to slow his momentum enough to land lightly on the grass. A torrent of flower petals was shaken loose, and they fell around him as he whipped his head towards the barking dog.

“Spot! _Heel_.”

The dog immediately stopped barking, turning to look at Alec questioningly. Alec strode forward and grabbed Spot by his collar, dragging him away from the tree.

Jace tried to stop him.

“What are you _doing_?” he demanded, jabbing a finger toward the fox, still trembling on his perch. “There’s no _way_ that’s a normal fox! Look at its _eyes_. For all we know, that’s the thing that cursed Isabelle in the first place!”

“With what stele?” Alec snapped. “It’s a _fox_ , Jace! Last time I checked, nephilim couldn’t change into _small mammals_.”

Spot began to wiggle in Alec’s grip, making upset noises. Alec looked over at the guard.

“You!” he snapped. The guard snapped to attention. “Take this damn dog somewhere it won’t cause _problems_.”

The guard flushed, but quickly rushed to do what Alec had said. Jace was quietly fuming, glaring at Alec before turning and storming from the garden.

Alec sighed, looking up at the fox.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Jace just didn’t know any better.”

The fox didn’t move, still staring at Alec with frightened eyes.

Alec grimaced. “You were at Ragnor’s house, right? When I visited the other day? Here,” Alec extended a hand towards the animal, “Would you like help getting down?”

The fox shrank back, ears flat against its head. Alec sighed, lowered his hand and glancing around the garden for something he might use to urge the fox down. He was just considering getting a ladder from the gardener when the fox made a distressed noise that drew Alec’s attention.

They watched one another for a few more moments, the fox trembling in place. Then, its eyes rolled back in its head and it fell from the branch.

Alec shouted in surprise, lunging forward, and even with his rune-enhanced speed, barely managed to catch the animal before it hit the ground. Its breath was coming shallow and quick, and Alec could feel the flutter of its heartbeat beneath his palm.

“Shit,” Alec murmured, glancing around the empty garden, “ _shit_.”

.o.O.o.

Alec left the fox with a deeply confused Diana, instructing her to treat it as best she could and to contact Ragnor. When he was (fairly) certain that she wasn’t going to toss the fox out the window the moment Alec left, he went to look for Jace.

He found him in the stables, a furious storm of activity. He was dressed in his hunting attire, Spot at his heels and horse tacked, choosing between two similar fine-stringed nets.

“Jace,” Alec called out. Jace nodded in his direction, but otherwise did not acknowledge his presence. Alec approached warily. “Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” Jace said, deciding on one of the nets for reasons Alec couldn’t discern and tossing the other to a stable boy. “I’m going to catch that damned warbler.”

Alec watched Jace messily fold the net and stuff it into his bag, and Alec noticed the crossbow at his hip.

“I assume you’re aware that the bird must be brought back _alive_?” Alec checked, raising his eyebrows. Jace scowled at him, his hazel-blue eyes flashing.

“I know, Alec,” he said, already making for the horse, “I’m not an _idiot_.”

“Perhaps not,” Alec allowed, glancing at the hound at Jace’s feet, “You can be quite sharp, given enough time to think things through. But you know as well as I that the decisions you make in haste are seldom wise.”

Jace mounted his horse, a strand of gold-blond hair falling in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, giving Alec that cock-sure grin he hated, “It’s fortunate, then, that this is a decision which requires little thought. I’m willing to bet anything that that bird is in Brocelind Forest, and I’m going to go get it.”

“You don’t know that it’ll be there. And are you seriously going alone?” Alec asked, nodding at the lack of a hunting revenue in the courtyard. The Brocelind Forest was full of all manner of magical creatures, curiosities, and unknown dangers. It wasn’t the sort of place one typically went for a picnic lunch.

But then again, Jace wasn’t exactly what Alec would call ‘Typical’.

“Birds are a different prey than demons, brother. The fewer people taking part in the hunt, the better,” Jace smirked at Alec, “Not that you would know.”

Alec didn’t take the bait, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Jace responded with an even broader smile.

“Be careful,” Alec said at last, scowling, “The kingdom doesn’t need another member of the royal family in Diana’s care. If you don’t find it in three days, I want you back here.”

Jace scoffed in mock offence.

“I’m always careful!” he said. Alec replied with a deadpan glare that made Jace laugh loudly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll come back. Three days, right? That’s plenty of time.” He spurred his horse and, with the click of horseshoes against cobblestones, rode north.

Alec closed his eyes and asked Raziel to give him strength.

.o.O.o.

Alec returned to the infirmary to find it in disarray.

The fox was awake and had managed to wedge itself on a high corner shelf. The entire staff of healers were circled around it, cooing and trying to urge it down. The fox growled when one healer got too close. She flinched back.

Diana appeared with a broom a moment later, her expression stormy as she shoved through the group of healers and jabbed at the fox with its brush. The fox shrieked in displeasure, snapping at the bristles.

Alec stepped forward, hands out in a placating gesture.

“What—.”

He didn’t get the chance to finish, as at that moment the fox noticed him and, with another shriek, sprinted across the top of the row of shelves, dodging the grabbing hands of healers, and launched itself directly at Alec.

Alec shouted in surprise as the fox collided with him, its dull claws immediately scrambling against his shirt as it tried to climb him. It managed to get some traction and pull itself up to curl around his shoulders like some kind of shoulder cat, unconcerned that it was much too large to do so comfortably. The fox was closer in size to the collie dogs that shepherds used to corral their sheep than any kind of cat. Alec had to steady the animal with his hands to stop it from slipping, and it curled its huge tail around Alec’s neck to anchor itself. He could feel the fox’s whole body shaking against him.

Someone cleared their throat, and Alec looked up to find Diana glaring at him.

“The infirmary,” she said, each word weighted with annoyance, “Is no place for a _wild animal_.”

Alec wondered if a warlock’s familiar counted as being “wild”, but he took one look at Diana’s expression and decided not to ask.

“I apologize,” Alec said, “I didn’t mean to cause problems for you. Did you hear back from Ragnor Fell?”

Diana barked a humourless laugh.

“Indeed. He told us, quote: ‘keep it.’”

Alec was surprisingly unsurprised. From what little he knew of Ragnor, that sort of response wasn’t out of character. He suspected that, given a few days at most, Ragnor would change his tune about not wanting the fox. He seemed the type to only maintain the façade of not caring for a short while before breaking.

“Ragnor will want it back eventually,” Alec said, “Until then, I’ll keep it in my chambers. Is that acceptable?”

Diana looked like she was going to object, and then paused, pursing her lips.

“Your chambers?” she asked. Alec nodded in confirmation. “Hm. I wouldn’t trust it in there alone. You stay in there with it, make sure it doesn’t cause any trouble.”

Alec sighed. “Diana, I’m fine, I don’t need to rest—.”

Diana talked over him, acting as though he hadn’t spoken. “Yes, that’s right. An unsupervised fox can cause a lot of damage. You had better keep a close eye on it.”

The fox whined, curling more tightly around Alec’s shoulders, and Alec decided to let it be. It didn’t really matter if he did his paperwork in his study or in his bedroom, after all.

When Alec reached his chambers, the fox wouldn’t jump down, despite Alec’s urging, and Alec had to unwind the fox from around his shoulders and place it on the floor. Even then, it twisted around to curl behind Alec’s legs, nose twitching madly. Alec huffed a laugh despite himself.

“You’ve only known me for one day, you know,” he said, stepping around the fox, “I could be a horrible person.”

The fox’s nose stopped twitching as it looked up at him. Its eyes were a bit unfocused, but still unnervingly aware. Alec scowled at it, all good humour gone.

“Whatever,” he said. He walked over to his dresser, where a servant had left a pitcher of water and a bowl of seasonal berries. He ate the berries and then, after a moment of consideration, poured some water into the empty bowl and placed it on the floor. When he straightened up, the fox was looking at him.

Alec frowned. “What? It’s not like you could pour water for _yourself_.”

The fox made its chuffing-laughing sound, then walked over to take a long drink. Alec watched it for a moment, then turned to go. The fox raised its head.

Alec pointed at the fox. “I am leaving for _one minute_. If I come back to find you’ve damaged _anything_ , I’ll wear your pelt as a scarf, got it?”

The fox chuffed, which sounded a bit like a scoff, but bowed its head in clear agreement. Alec stood for a second, still pointing at it, then turned to go.

He returned less than a minute later with a pile of books and papers from his study, as well as a plate of boiled chicken he had snagged from the kitchen on his way back, to find that the fox had curled up on his bed and gone back to sleep. He put the books down on top of his dresser, placed the chicken next to the bowl of water, and settled in the chair by the window for another morning of reading and paperwork.

Around noon, Alec sighed, tucking away a report on bridge repairs in the east, and looked out the window. He was struggling to keep his focus, his thought jumping back to Isabelle, and the bird, and Jace, and the damned Red King. Jace may already be on the quest to retrieve the magic bird, but Alec had learned over the years that contingency plans were non-optional, especially when dealing with siblings as brazen and reckless as Jace and Isabelle.

Alec thought of the fox, which hadn’t made a sound in hours, and wondered when he had gotten so reckless as to let strange creatures into his room. He looked over, expecting to see the fox snoozing peacefully on his pillows, and froze.

There was a shirtless man asleep in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, I wonder WHO could POSSIBLY be the MYSTERIOUS and SEXY man in Alec's bed????????????
> 
> Urg, I had a closet-birdwatcher Jace bit that I ended up cutting. I'll try to work it in later, because I think it's funny, but it's too bad it didn't work here :///
> 
> Not beta-ed. I want to say it's because 'we die like men', but the truth is I'm not active enough in the fandom to know someone I can ask? So, uh. This is me. Asking. Anyone wanna beta?


	3. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deals with foxes aren't really considered a Good Idea, generally speaking, but Alec doesn't always make good choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Announcer Voice): previously on This: Isabelle’s cursed, Jace peaced out to Solve It (lmao IMAGINE if he didn’t make things worse), Alec is Tired™, and suddenly there’s a half-naked man /sleeping in his bed/.
> 
> No Beta, we die like men! (by which I of course mean, please someone beta this for me please.)  
> No final edit, because this was Too Damn Long to read over a 50000th time. So. Be aware of that i guess.

**Chapter 3: The Deal.**

_"if you deal with a fox, think of his tricks"_

_\- Jean de La Fontaine_

Alec leapt to his feet, his chair shrieking back. He reached for his dagger, but his hand closed around empty air.

He cursed his carelessness and, desperate for _something_ to use as a weapon, grabbed for the heavy tome on his desk. 

The man did not stir. He had dark hair and skin as brown as a farmer who had worked all day in the sunny fields. The muscles that cut across his bare chest also spoke of strength that may have been borne from physical labour, but the loose fabric of his pants was visibly too fine to have been bought on a farmer’s earnings. The man made a small noise in his sleep, turning his head to the side. His shaggy, dark hair fell to the side, revealing a delicately pointed ear. 

Alec’s heartbeat raked up a few notches. He had never met one of the Fair Folk before, but pointed ears were a _distinctly_ fae trait.

The man groaned, louder this time, his eyelashes fluttering as he sat up with what appeared to be a great deal of effort. He made another vague noise of displeasure, stifling a yawn on the back of his hand, then paused and looked down at himself. 

“Oh!” he said, flexing his fingers. “My hands are back!”

He snapped, and an orb of pale blue light appeared, encasing his entire hand and part way down his wrist, half-covering the leather cuff he was wearing as a bracelet. The man laughed, delighted. 

Alec tightened his grip on the book.

“Who the hell are you?” 

The man looked up, extinguishing the light with a flick of his wrist as his eyes lazily trailed down Alec’s body. A slow grin spreading across his face, his pupils narrowing to slits within his golden-yellow irises.

 _The_ _eyes of a fox,_ Alec thought weakly 

Alec shivered. He very deliberately did _not_ look at the long line of the man’s neck, or the way the muscles of his shoulders flexed when he leaned on one arm.

“Well?” Alec pressed, teeth gritted. “How did you get in here? What do you want?”

The man chuckled, unfolding his legs with a flourish. His bare feet slid against the wood floor as he stood, his loose pants hanging low on his hips as he drifted towards Alec.

Alec’s fought to watch the man’s face, but eyes were drawn automatically to his bare chest. The muscles of his shoulders were taut, moving beneath the skin with a coiled strength that shifted with every step.

 _Oh,_ said something inside of Alec.

His face warmed, and he forced himself to look away, pretending his gaze had never wandered.

The man stopped just outside the bludgeoning distance of Alec’s book.

“How did I get in here?” the man echoed, his voice layered with amusement that seemed to be on the cusp of breaking into laughter. “Why, _you_ brought me here, your highness. I was smaller, and admittedly a bit fluffier, but you lent me your bed all the same,” he pouted. “I hope you’re not regretting it _now_.”

Alec stared, his brain furiously making connections.

The fox. This man was the _fox?_

He’d heard stories about fox fae, of course. They frequently appeared in nephilim folk tales, though they were supposed to be rarer in real life. Foxes were shapeshifters who delighted in causing mayhem and mischief, often taking the form that their victims would find most beautiful in order to aid in their deceits. 

This one was no exception, Alec thought as he scrutinized him. There was no denying that the man had pleasing features. Everything about him was sharp, from his high cheekbones and the line of his jaw to the bright slashes of his vulpine eyes. Alec wondered, vaguely, if the fox had taken the shape of a man by chance, or if he had seen something in Alec that told him it would be a more effective choice than any womanly seductress.

Alec must have been quiet for too long because the man sighed.

“I’m sorry for not speaking to you sooner,” he inclined his head in a mock bow. “I normally wouldn’t have let our acquaintance go on for so long without introducing myself, but I’ve been very low on magic since this morning, and my fox form isn’t very talkative without a bit of a magical kick.”

Alec gripped the book more tightly. The leather binding creaked in his grasp. 

“And the other day at Ragnor’s? Were you low on magic then?”

The man lifted his head, mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“No, but I didn’t know what kind of person you were yet. Since then, you’ve… impressed me,” he said, winking. “Oh, but I _still_ haven't introduced myself, have I?” he offered his hand, palm up. “My name is Magnus. Magnus Bane.”

Alec did not accept the handshake.

“That’s a strange name for a fox.”

Magnus shrugged, dropping his hand and resting it on his hip.

“Any name is strange when it belongs to a fox,” he said, “We’re not creatures who commonly carry names.”

“Oh?” Alec said, eyes narrowing, “And why are _you_ an exception in this?”

Magnus scoffed. He stepped closer, leaning in so that his face was mere inches from Alec.

“I think you’ll find,” he breathed, eyes sharp, “That I am _anything_ but common.” 

Alec tensed as Magnus reached for him, but he only plucked the book from Alec's hand and placed it on the table beside him. He stood with his hand on the book, lingering in Alec's space, watching him as if waiting for him to do something. 

Alec shivered, taking a half-step back.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

Magnus withdrew his arm, flicking his hand dismissively.

“It's not about what _I_ want, darling. It's about what _you_ want.”

“What I—?” Alec's eyes dropped down to Magnus's chest again without his permission. He quickly looked up, trying to hide his mistake, but he could tell from Magnus's expression that his wandering gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“I was referring, of course, to the Golden Bird,” Magnus said, smirking, “However, I wouldn’t be opposed to a certain amount of… _negotiation_.” 

Alec swallowed, tongue suddenly dry.

“You— you’re saying you could bring me the Golden Bird?”

“Heavens, no,” Magnus laughed, crossing his arms in a way that made his forearms flex attractively, which Alec was _sure_ he was doing on purpose. “I could no more bring you the Golden Bird than I could bring you the Red Sea. But I can take _you_ to _it_.”

Alec watched Magnus carefully. Magnus watched back. 

“And why would you do that for me?” Alec asked.

Magnus breathed a laugh, tipping his head to look at Alec out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, well of course I wouldn’t do it for _free_. I expect payment.”

Alec pressed his lips together.

“What payment do you want?”

Magnus grinned. It was a hungry expression, and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

“Hmmm,” He said. “ _You_ , perhaps?”

Despite himself, Alec flushed, looking away. 

“What _else_?” he demanded. Magnus shrugged, making a disappointed noise.

“The bird,” Magnus said. Alec began to object, but Magnus cut him off with a wave. “You can use it to heal your sister first, of course, but afterwards, I want it.”

Alec narrowed his eyes.

“What use could one of the Fair Folk have for the Golden Bird?”

Magnus stared at him for a long moment, brows furrowed in confusion, before a look of realization crossed his face and he burst into laughter. 

Alec pressed his lips together and steeled himself against the sound. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Magnus huffed, waving a hand as if trying to clear the air of his mirth, “But, well, isn't it obvious?”

“Humour me,” Alec deadpanned. Magnus sobered, though a smile still hovered around his lips.

“It’s a panacea that never runs dry,” Magnus said slowly. “Think about it. Think of all the people willing to pay anything, _do_ anything, for a chance to save themselves and their loved ones from a slow death. Frankly, it’s easy money.”

 _Panacea._ The word immediately brought Alec’s thoughts to the notebook of cures where he had first read about the Golden Bird. The one that had only been signed with _M.B._

 _Magnus Bane_.

Alec narrowed his eyes. He had seen the book, the furious scrawl of the increasingly desperate notes, and he didn’t doubt that Magnus wanted the bird for something else, something important. Alec may not have dealt with the Fair Folk in his life, but he recognized circular wording when he heard it. Implying untruths without outright lying was a specialty of fae, after all. 

Alec tried not to let his realization show on his face. So long as Magnus allowed Alec to use the bird to heal Izzy first, it wasn’t his business what he _really_ wanted the bird for. All it meant was that Magnus was much more desperate for the bird than he wanted to seem, which gave Alec a bit of bargaining room. 

Alec crossed his arms.

“Then why can't you go get it yourself? You have magic, what could you possibly gain from making me fetch it for you?”

All remaining traces of amusement left Magnus in a flash. His face hardened.

“You know about the Red King,” he said, glancing at the book that Alec had wielded at him only moments before. “You should understand why I am hesitant to cross him.”

“So then, what, he really is as bad as they say?” Alec asked, doubtful.

“Oh, he's much worse. But you wear the angel’s runes, same as him, and so you can get away with things I couldn't get close to. Plus, the bird is… particular. Very opposed to any demonic energies. I’ll need a nephilim’s help in catching it.”

Alec narrowed his eyes.

“Really?” he said, “Then isn’t it convenient, that one such nephilim should appear before you, a sister cursed and in desperate need for a cure.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like what you’re implying,” he said, pointing a finger in Alec’s face. “I did _not_ curse your sister. All I did was see an opportunity and take it. You just needed a little _taste_ of what is made possible with the Golden Bird’s powers.”

Alec blinked.

“You summoned the bird?” he asked, incredulous. “ _You_? But Isabelle said—.”

“I’ve never met the lovely princess,” Magnus interrupted, gold eyes flashing, “Nor do I know what vivid dreams she’s lived since being cursed. But indeed, I managed to summon the bird thanks to a handy little loophole using the local ley lines and the _rule of three_. I couldn’t hope to get the damn thing to stay put long enough to _really_ make an impact on the princess’ condition, but I _could_ make an impact on _you_.”

Alec barred his teeth, ready to tell the fox what he could do with his _impact_ , when he stopped.

“The _rule of three_ ,” Alec echoed. “So, that means that it’ll be back tomorrow! All I need to do is catch it, and—.”

Magnus barked a laugh. “Oh, if _only_ it were that easy. You’ll never catch the bird like that, little princeling. You may try, but no net woven by mortals can hold that creature.”

Alec scowled. “That doesn’t—.”

Magnus stopped him with a finger to his lips. The shock of contact silenced Alec more effectively than the finger itself.

“You may try,” Magnus repeated, voice a low growl as he pressed against Alec’s mouth harder, “But when you fail to hold the bird, then you can find me in Brocelind Forest. Come before nightfall and come alone. I will show you how to catch the bird, and then we can speak more of _payment_.”

Magnus took his hand away, the loss of pressure making Alec’s mouth tingle with warmth, and before Alec could speak there was a flash of pale blue light.

The next Alec knew, he was blinking awake in his bed, the sun much lower in the sky than it had been a moment before, and Magnus Bane was gone. 

.o.O.o.

The bird returned the next day.

Alec, prepared for this, was already sitting at Isabelle’s bedside when she came awake. She blinked several times, smiling at Alec blearily.

“Alec?” she asked through a yawn, sitting up. “Where’s Jace?”

“He left,” Alec said, reaching out to help her lean against the pillows, “On a quest to catch the magic bird that’s right outside your window.” 

Isabelle looked out the window, studying the bird for a few long moments. Her face fell. 

“But,” Isabelle said, blinking sleepily, “Jace is a moron.”

Alec barked a surprised laugh.

“Well, I won’t disagree with you,” Alec said, “But if nothing else, he’s a fine tracker.”

Isabelle shook her head, distracted as she watched the bird sing its heart out.

“No, you don’t understand. He’s too boneheaded. He’ll never be able to do it,” she looked at Alec, “You’ll have to go.”

Alec wasn’t sure what to make of this Isabelle. Her eyes were clouded and her face largely vacant, but she spoke with the confidence of someone in a dream. _This makes perfect sense_ , the dream logic demanded.

As someone who had once vividly dreamt that he was a small rodent, Alec was unconvinced.

“What makes you say that?” Alec asked, touching Isabelle’s shoulder, “Perhaps Jace will come home tonight, victorious with the bird in his possession. It wouldn’t make sense for me to leave before hearing his news.”

Isabelle shook her head, still watching the bird.

“No. You’re leaving today, before midday.”

Alec withdrew his hand. “What— How do you know?”

Isabelle smiled, finally looking at Alec. She raised her hands and traced an invisible shape in the air between them, her fingers spread wide.

“Some things,” she said, “Can be seen in ways we cannot say.”

It sounded like she was quoting something, but Alec had no idea what it was supposed to mean and told her so.

“It means,” Isabelle said, “That you will leave today, and you will be the one to retrieve the Golden Bird. Not Jace. _You.”_

Alec stared at his sister. She stared back, unbothered.

“Well then,” Alec said, “It is fortunate that we won’t find out, because in a moment a group of Jace’s hunters will toss a net over the bird and bring it to you.”

Isabelle shook her head. “That won’t work,” she said, glancing out the window, “It can’t be caught by nets.”

Alec clenched his fists at this.

“How could you _possibly_ know that?” he demanded. Isabelle bit her lip, eyes downcast. Alec watched as she visibly wrestled with what to say.

“There are things I know,” Isabelle said at last, “that I cannot explain. They are not my secrets to tell. You just have to trust me.” 

Alec felt a lump in his throat. 

“I will always trust you,” he said.

Isabelle smiled at him, grateful.

“You’ll be okay, big brother,” he said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, “They will take care of me, and you will prevail. You already have the heart for it. The only thing you’ll need is the cleverness of a fox.”

Alec started, certain he had misheard.

“Cleverness of a…?”

At that moment, the birdsong stopped. Alec’s head whipped towards the window, and he caught a glimpse of pink-gold feathers amongst the nets that fell all around it. Alec was sure at least one of them had been thrown true, but the bird twisted impossibly in the air and disappeared into the sky. There was a gentle _thump_ , and when Alec looked down, Isabelle was again unconscious. 

He touched the back of her hand with his fingertip, feeling the warmth of her life beneath her skin, and he knew what he had to do. 

.o.O.o.

Alec was nearly ready to depart when the messenger arrived.

Since he had no hunting armour of his own, he had dressed himself in a combination of Jace’s spare bits of armour and whatever the prince’s guard was able to scrape together. The final effect did not look particularly royal, with bits of different-coloured leather and metal that ranged from polished steel to blackened silver, but it would suffice. Alec didn’t mind the unkempt look, but he did acquiesce, at Underhill’s insistence, to a golden broach that marked him as a first prince. He attached it to the strap of his quiver so that it sat high on his chest. 

His bag was packed with supplies for several days travel, his horse tacked, and his bow and arrows secured to his back when the out-of-breath messenger burst into the stables. He zeroed in on Alec and seemed to sag in relief.

“Your highness!” he gasped, doubling over in a bow that quickly turned into propping himself on his knees for support, “The king and queen will be arriving within the hour!” 

Alec didn’t flinch, but he suspected, from Underhill’s pitying expression, that he couldn’t quite keep his disdain from his face. 

When his parents arrived, it would mean several hours of platitudes and ritual as he symbolically passed the care of the kingdom back to them. This would no doubt be followed by another few hours of explaining the situation with Isabelle, where it was Jace had gone, and listing off reasons why he hadn’t done this or that in order to prevent the whole disaster in the first place. All in all, they would probably put him behind by _at least_ a day.

Alec pursed his lips, glancing at his horse, already laden with his supplies and ready to leave, and then at Underhill, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

He couldn’t spare the time. _Isabelle_ couldn’t spare the time.

Alec mounted his horse and, after adjusting the lay of his quiver against his back, looked down at Underhill. 

“Tell them I left a few hours ago, won’t you?” Alec requested. 

Underhill laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’ve always known you _wanted_ to flee the ire of your parents,” he said, “But I never thought I’d see the day when you actually _did it_.” 

Alec rolled his eyes and spurred his horse forward, exiting the stables with a kick-up of dust. The messenger watched him, open-mouthed, as he skirted around him and made for the back gate. 

He would avoid any of the main roads that the royal procession would take, Alec had already decided, and take the long way around to the road that led to Brocelind Forest. It would take him a bit longer than a more direct route, but anything was faster than the time he would lose if he encountered his parents on the way.

For a moment, he wondered at the consequences he would have to face when he saw them again. Reprimands and punishments would likely be unavoidable, but he pushed the thought from his mind before he could linger on it for too long. He would deal with the consequences when the time came. For now, he had to concentrate on doing what he could to save his sister. 

.o.O.o.

Alec was well outside of the palace city of York, having ridden for the better part of the day, when a kerfuffle in an adjacent village drew his attention from the road ahead.

Several people were shouting and running about, calling for rope and shouting instructions that Alec couldn’t quite catch. He slowed his horse but didn’t stop, watching the people as they scrambled. 

All at once, a horse burst from behind the houses. It was a sleek animal, with a bright blond coat and white mane. It was the sort of animal that the palace’s stable master might spend a lifetime of careful breeding to achieve. It also appeared to be completely wild, as it reared up and screamed when the villagers tried to get a rope around its neck. Alec winced as one man, who had just managed to get a lasso over the horse’s head, narrowly avoided a kick. The man shouted in alarm and jumped back, releasing the rope.

Suddenly, with an ear-piercing screech, the horse broke free and sprinted for the wooded area on the far side of the road. Alec moved before consciously deciding to, intercepting the creature before it could reach the treeline. It pulled up short at the sight of Alec’s horse, huffing and shuffling its hooves in the dirt as Alec pulled his bow free and tried to direct the animal with its length. Its eyes, which were wide enough that Alec could see the whites, looked about wildly before finally breaking for the road. 

Alec cursed as he urged his horse on. He had the disadvantage of his horse being weighed down by himself and his possessions, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the fact that the wild horse seemed to be bred for speed, all sleek lines and compact muscle. He braced himself to lose the horse quickly, even as he urged his own faster.

Bizarrely, the horse did not break away in a dead sprint, as Alec was expecting. Instead, it wavered between the forest and the road before stumbling on apparently nothing. Alec quickly overtook it and, reaching out to grab the lasso that hung around its neck, pulled the animal up short. It shrieked again, yanking on the rope, and Alec nearly lost his grip before the man from before caught up to them with more rope. The man was fully in control now, shouting instructions to the other villagers as he helped Alec keep the horse still. In the end, it took four men to drag the horse back to the stables area. Finally, it was shut away in a pen where it could kick and run to its heart content. Already, it had begun to slow, huffing and visibly exhausted from its rampage. 

Alec spotted the man amidst the other villagers, sweaty but smiling as they clapped him on the back in congratulations. Alec dismounted and approached him. 

The man was just shy of middle age, with dark brown hair that curled around his ears and the beginnings of crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes. It didn’t take away from the fact that he was terribly handsome. 

The horse began to kick at the wall of the pen. Alec grinned at the man, slapping him amicably on his shoulder.

“Well done,” Alec said, “You’ve caught yourself a fine horse.”

The man grinned back, but his eyes fell on the broach and his expression turned to shock. 

“Oh no, your highness,” he said quickly, “You should take the horse. We never would have caught it without your help, after all.”

Alec waved the offer off.

“Nonsense,” he said, “It was only a matter of time before you had successfully corralled it. Besides, surely you can find use for a horse as fine as this one?”

The man shook his head, gesturing at the animal.

“A simple blacksmith has no need for a horse such as this, bred for speed and grace,” the man said. “In fact, none in the village are likely to find use for him. He would struggle to pull a plough or turn a millstone. A heavy-boned workhorse or an ox would be much better suited for our work. Besides, I believe this one is wild, and I could never spare the time and money it will take to break it in.”

Alec nodded in understanding, looking at the horse with consideration. He had never been much of a horseman himself, but Isabelle had always been fond of the beasts. When she woke up (he was very careful not to think _if she woke up_ ), she would appreciate having this horse to work with as she recovered.

"I'll tell you what," Alec said, "Bring me some parchment, ink, and wax, and I'll write a letter to the royal stable master. I'll tell him to send a team to bring the stallion to the palace, and to pay you fairly in whatever form you wish, be it gold, an animal more suited for pulling a plough, or anything else you desire." 

The man ran to gather what Alec had requested, and Alec quickly penned the letter against the wall of the house. He blew on the ink the help it dry and then folded it, writing Underhill’s name and position on the back as an afterthought. He sealed the letter shut with a bit of wax, pressed out with the seal of his ring. The wax was of poor quality, but the delicately carved L, bracketed with runes for strength, was still starkly clear. Alec nodded and handed it to the man.

"Ask for Underhill," Alec said, "He's a good, honest man, and he’ll take you to the stable master. If the guards give you a hard time, just show them this seal and they will be forced to bring it before the king and queen." 

The man hesitated before taking the letter.

“So then, King Robert has returned to York?” he asked. 

“He has,” Alec confirmed, “As has my mother, the Queen.”

The man inclined his head, though his eyes were hesitant. 

"May the angel bless you, highness." 

“Hm,” Alec watched the horse as it showed its teeth when a villager offered it their hand. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he said, glancing at the man.

The man grimaced, scratching the back of his head.

“Michael, your highness,” he said. “Michael Wayland.”

The name stirred something of familiarity in the back of Alec’s mind, but he attributed it to the commonness of the name Michael and did not linger on it. He bade Wayland and the other villagers farewell and mounted his horse, continuing down the road towards Brocelind Forest. 

.o.O.o.

Alec arrived a few hours before sunset. He rode down the scraggly forest path for a short way and, when there was no sign of Magnus, he stepped off to set up camp in a small clearing. 

He gathered up some loose timber for firewood and laid down his bedroll. Blessedly, a rabbit had happened to cross their path earlier that day while Alec let his horse drink from a stream, and he had been able to kill it with a single well-placed arrow. It was a hefty animal, and after Alec finished skinning and cleaning it, he wondered if he had enough time to cook it before Magnus arrived. He had specifically told Alec to come before nightfall, and Alec could only assume there was a reason for that. It was rapidly approaching dusk, and just when Alec was beginning to worry that Magnus wouldn’t show, something stirred in the underbrush. 

Alec reached for his bow, but before he had a chance to grab it, he looked up and met a pair of golden-yellow eyes with slit pupils.

Alec squinted into the late-day gloom.

“Magnus?” he called.

The animal made a small rumbling noise, nosing its way forward. It was a red fox, and it had those strange eyes, but its eyes were fixed on the skinned rabbit at Alec’s side and its nose was working in a purely animalistic way. Alec frowned.

“Magnus? Is that you?” 

The fox paused, looking up at Alec and blinking hard a few times before shaking itself.

“Yes, of course it’s me,” Magnus said, sitting down on his haunches. His white-tipped tail curled around him. “Were you planning on meeting a _different_ fox in these woods?”

“No, but why are you—,” Alec trailed off and waved at Magnus.

“A fox?” Magnus guessed, flicking his ears. “It’s faster to travel this way than on foot. It’s also better for walking through the forest. Fewer branches to the face. Speaking of…” Magnus stood, gesturing with his snout. “Come on. We need to get to the spot soon, or we’ll miss it.”

Alec quickly bagged his rabbit and following Magnus from the camp.

They didn’t take the road, of course, as that would have been too simple. Instead, they trampled through the thick bush. Alec struggled to keep up with Magnus, and in his haste indeed received several strikes to the face from wayward branches. They came to a stream, edged by patches of bright yellow marsh marigolds, which Magnus immediately began to follow opposite to the way the water flowed. Magnus didn’t step into the stream, so Alec didn’t either, though it may have made it easier to follow Magnus without vegetation snagging at his clothing with every step. 

They eventually came to where the stream started, at the point where two smaller streams met, and here Magnus stopped. He looked up both streams, as if checking for something, and then sat back, satisfied. 

“Notice something?” He asked Alec.

Alec looked up the streams as well. They met remarkably cleanly, at nearly a ninety-degree angle from each other. One came from the north, and the other from the east, and Alec could only assume that it drained into the Hudson, the river that ran through York.

On the wedge of earth between the two streams, a tree grew. Alec was no expert on plants, but even he could tell that it was visibly different from the trees around it. It had a branching pattern that was similar to that of any of the hardwood trees that dominated the forest, with a tall trunk and rounded crown, but Alec could see that instead of leaves, the tree had needles like those of a pine, as well as what looked like small red berries.

“That tree—,” Alec began, only to be cut off by Magnus.

“Oh, it’s starting.”

Alec didn’t have time to ask _what_ was starting, exactly, when the air in front of the odd tree rippled. A circle the size of a dinner plate swirled like the movement of ink through water, darkening to a deep violet before Alec’s eyes, before solidifying into an opaque disk that hovered two meters from the ground. 

Alec was so alarmed by the appearance of the odd apparition that he didn’t notice the Golden Bird flying over his head until it was flying directly into the purple disk. He only got a glimpse of it before it vanished in a crackle of magenta light, purple disk and all.

Alec stared at the empty space, mouth agape, for a few shocked seconds. Then he rounded on Magnus.

“What was _that_?” he demanded. 

Magnus shrugged, an unsettlingly human gesture for a fox to make. 

“That,” Magnus said, “Is how the Golden Bird always escapes capture.” 

Alec waited for him to go on, but Magnus only bent down to lap at the water from the stream. When he was finished, he tilted his head towards the way they had come.

“Let us return to your camp for the night,” Magnus suggested. “We will eat and rest, and then I will tell you how we shall catch the Golden Bird.”

.o.O.o.

Alec had been under the impression that they would capture the Golden Bird _in_ Brocelind Forest. He was beginning to realize, as he cooked his rabbit on a spit for supper, that that wasn’t going to be the case.

If nothing else, Magnus was at least helpful to have around. When Alec said that he was going to make a spit from saplings and rope, Magnus had made a wrought metal spit-roasting set appear in a flash of blue light. He had even lit the fire, glancing at the tinder that Alec had assembled in his rudimentary firepit and setting it alight with a twitch of his ears. Alec was grateful for it, as it saved him time and the trouble of hurting his knuckles while trying to spark flint and steel, but he would have been more grateful if Magnus had _warned_ him, first. 

Alec was fairly certain that, had Magnus so desired, he could have used magic to cook the rabbit, or even pull a three-course meal from thin air, but instead he just watched Alec work, nose twitching as he tracked the rabbit's turns.

“How do you know when it’s cooked?” Magnus asked. Alec shrugged.

“When it has a certain look to it,” he said, reaching for a branch to stoke the embers a little. “After it stops dripping, at least.”

Alec was actually terrible at gauging when the meat was done. Izzy used to complain, back when they hunted together, that Alec always over-cooked the meat. He would always retort that it was better to have overdone meat than raw meat that made you sick. 

Magnus sniffed. “It smells done to me.”

“I don’t know if I should take your word for it,” Alec said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you eat your rabbits raw?”

Magnus made a noise of outrage. “I would _never_.”

Alec laughed, reaching out to turn the rabbit again.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were a _connoisseur_ of rabbit meat.”

“The distance between ‘connoisseur’ and ‘eating raw rabbit’ is great,” Magnus said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry if my falling somewhere between those two extremes is strange for you.”

“Well, at any rate, you must be hungry,” Alec said, pulling the rabbit from the fire, “Would you like to share my meal of not-raw rabbit?”

Magnus leaned forward, eyes on the leg that Alec cut free.

“Yes,” he said, inhaling, “Yes, I would like that very much, I think.”

Alec expected Magnus to return to his human form to eat, but instead, he took his half of the rabbit and snapped it up in his canine jaws. He was much quicker about it than Alec, who was still working on his portion when Magnus started to gnaw on one of the rabbit’s bones in earnest. Alec paused, mid-chew.

“Magnus?” Alec asked. Magnus froze, his eyes darting to Alec. Slowly, guiltily, he removed his jaws from the bone.

“Ah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. I’m quite tired, and I forgot myself for a moment there.” 

Alec hummed, chewing another bite thoughtfully. 

“Are you tired from summoning the bird?” Alec asked. “You were like that yesterday, too, in the morning. Acting like a proper fox, I mean. Did the rule of three not work the way you intended?”

Magnus sighed, resting his head on his front paws.

“Oh, it worked all right,” he said wryly, “Otherwise, it would have drained me until I was nothing but an empty husk. But being a conduit for that much magic… It’s like standing in a river, just before the crest of a waterfall. It’s unbelievably hard work, just keeping yourself from getting swept away. I’ll probably be ok after I rest, but for now, I am _tired._ ”

Alec hummed, watching Magnus at he stretched out with half-closed eyes.

“Is that why you couldn’t summon it for the person you were trying to save? Too much magic?”

Magnus’s eyes flicked back open, fixing Alec with a stern look.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Alec shrugged. “I mean, you were obviously researching panaceas for _someone_ , when you wrote that journal.”

“Ah,” Magnus said, relaxing again, “I see. I really must remember to use a pen name for my writings,” Magnus sighed, his ears folding back against his head. “No, that wasn’t why. By the time I realized the Golden Bird was real, they were beyond anyone’s help. Even so, the bird is now of special interest to me for different reasons than its ability to heal.”

Alec furrowed his brow. “What other abilities does it have?” he asked.

Magnus bared his teeth in a foxy grin.

“Why, the ability to make _doorways_ , of course.”

.o.O.o.

_Long ago, in the spaces between reality, there grew a tree._

_Some say the tree was planted by the gods, to keep the universe together, and to keep the universe apart._

_For the universe is a lonely thing, always wishing to fill the empty places within itself. It aches to pull the sky to meet the earth, so that the sun, the moon, the stars, and all matter can be together as one._

_The gods saw the universe’s desire and saw what destruction it would bring. Where would one walk, without the emptiness between the earth and sky? How would water flow, without any empty places to fall to?_

_The universe wanted all to be one, but life cannot exist without space to grow._

_So, they planted the tree. And it grew sprawling branches that held the sky up from the ground, the sun from the moon, and held a star at the tip of every branch. The gods looked at what they had created and were satisfied._

_But the universe cried out, for how could the gods be so cruel as to let the loneliness prevail?_

_The tree heard the universe’s sobs, and it felt its pain. And it offered comfort._

_‘Look’ it said. ‘See my roots. They hold me up, but they also hold you together. See how they reach into the earth and pull time and memories from the soil. See how they keep all things from slipping away. For the emptiness is vast, and it is wide, but through my roots, it can be bridged.’_

_And the universe looked, and it saw that the tree was right. Through its roots were a million pathways, so that even the farthest reaches of existence were connected by its tenuous strings. And in those pathways flowed light, and wind, and water, and warmth, and greater things that have no names, shining with orange and pink, blue and yellow, and all the golden hues of morning. And from this place, where exists all things that flow, a sound arose. A song, sweet and pure and kind, that filled all the emptiness with light and soothed the universe’s aching heart._

_‘I will be the one that connects all things,’ the tree said. ‘I must hold you apart, but I will also bring you together. For any that is clever enough to walk along my roots, will be able to find themselves as far as my furthest branches in only a single step. And you, my friend, shall be the first.’_

_And so, the universe took a drop of the tree’s light and moulded it into a bird that was all the colours of the sunrise, edges gilded in gold, and filled it with the song of all that flows._

_That morning, as the sun rose, the Sun Sparrow flew for the first time._

.o.O.o.

Alec frowned as Magnus finished the story.

“Is that truly how the bird came to be?” 

“I don’t know,” Magnus said, unconcerned. “It’s probably a mix of fact and fiction. No one is really sure whose gods it is the story mentions, and it’s been translated back and forth between languages so many times that there’s no telling how much has changed. What's important are the bits of truth scattered _within_ the story. And the most important truth,” he said, leaning towards Alec, “is the part about the roots.”

“Is that where the bird went? The root route?”

“The root route?” Magnus snorted a laugh. “I’ll have to remember that one. No, the bird went through a doorway of sorts. Just like in the story, when you walk through such a doorway, you can travel any distance in a single step.”

“Sounds convenient,” Alec commented.

“Very. And there's something else that was true in the story, which is that the doorways aren't just for the bird. Anyone who is clever enough to figure them out can use them,” Magnus sat up straight. “and I happen to consider myself to be _quite_ clever.” 

_Clever as a fox_ , Alec thought.

“Hm. So, you need the bird for you to figure it out how to use these… doorways?”

“I already know how to use them. I need the bird so I can figure out how to _make_ them.”

Alec tensed. “you—what?”

Magnus nodded. “I think I've figured most of it out, but there are a few bits I don't quite understand. Magic I need to examine, variables I need for calculations. If I had the bird, I'm confident I could get it working fairly quickly.”

“but—,” Alec paused, searching for the words. “Magnus. The ability to transport people and objects any distance in a moment? Do you understand what that would do to… to _everything_?! To trade? To _war_!? Greedy kings could invade anywhere they wanted with next to no cost, borders and walls and forts would be meaningless, locked doors nothing more than candlelight to keep away childhood monsters! It's not a power that mortals were meant to have.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Well, it's a good thing I’m not mortal, then. Besides, do you think I'm stupid? Obviously, I'm going to keep the ability to myself.”

Alec was taken aback.

“And do what with it?” he asked.

Magnus made a vague noise, waving his paw. “I don’t have a specific plan, but mostly I want to see things. I heard there’s a city across the ocean that was carved out of a cliffside. I’d _love_ to see that. Or the city atop a mountain, where they have the most delicious fruit that you can’t even imagine. There’s even rumours of an island where the mundanes worship foxes as gods,” Magnus ruffled his fur slightly, as if imagining the offerings laid out before him. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of appreciation for a change. Oh, and _beaches._ I miss beaches.Idris has _no_ good beaches. I'm willing to bet that you've never been to a good beach.”

“Hey!” Alec objected. “I—I’ve been to beaches! There's one at Lake Lyn! And I’ve _been_ to the South-East sea!”

Magnus shook his head mournfully. “You don't even know how sad it is that you can say that unironically. You poor, poor soul, thinking those icy wastes can be called _beaches._ ”

“The ice is only in winter— Urg, whatever! How is this supposed to help us find the bird?”

Magnus cocked his head. “Didn't I already say? I can use the same doorways as the bird,” he barred his teeth, and Alec wasn’t sure this time if it was meant to be a grin or a small. “We're going to follow that little birdie _all_ the way home.”

“Yes,” Alec agreed. “But where _is_ home? With the Red King?”

Magnus watched Alec carefully.

“There’s another part to the Golden Bird’s story, told most often in the Northern parts of Idris but not well known elsewhere,” he said, and once again took on the cadence of recitation. 

.o.O.o.

_The Sun Sparrow explored the universe by travelling through the great tree’s roots, but as time passed, it grew weary of its travels. The bird longed for a place it might call home, to rest its head and feel safe._

_And so, the bird began to travel anew, this time with a goal in mind. It searched far and wide for the perfect place settle, flying over oceans of dark water, through deserts of blinding heat, and over mountains that were tall enough to reach the stars. It searched for many days, and just when it was beginning to worry that there was no place in existence for it to call home, it came across a meadow. And in the centre of that meadow, stood a pear tree._

_The pear tree was the most beautiful thing the Sun Sparrow had ever seen, heavy with both fruit and flower, and it was about to rejoice at having found the perfect roost when he noticed a young man approaching the tree with an axe. The bird could see he intended to fell the tree, so it called out to him before he could take his first swing._

_’Sir, good sir, why are you trying to chop down this lovely tree?’_

_And the young man told the bird that a messenger had come and told them that the armies from across the Red Sea were coming to conquer their land, and that, though they could not hope to stand against the warriors of the north, they could at least deny them the bounty of their lands._

_The bird was saddened by this. It told the man not to chop down the tree, for it would protect his land from the northern invaders. And so, the man did not fell the pear tree._

.o.O.o.

Alec spoke up, vaguely familiar with this sort of tale.

“Don't tell me: the northern invaders came, the bird chased them away somehow, and that man became the first King of Vorios.”

Magnus chuffed a laugh.

“That is how one version ends,” he said, “but there is another ending as well. One in which the northern invaders came, and the bird sat in its pear tree and did nothing at all, except keep the invaders from harming its perfect, lovely tree, and _that_ was the birth of Vorios,” Magnus shrugged. “it's not nearly as nice, I admit, but I think it is truer to reality: the universe cares not for the whims and wars of man. It only exists to exist.”

Alec thought that was a dark way to think of destiny, but he decided not to press.

“And that pear tree is still there?”

“Yes,” Magnus said, his eyes growing distant. “An early King of Vorios built his capital around the tree, so that it now stands in the palace’s garden. Apparently, the bird didn't mind, as long as its tree was safe. Nowadays the bird never speaks. There's no saying if it ever really did. But the bird's greatest constant is that it returns to the tree each night at sunset to sleep through until the next morning, and it is there that it becomes tangible enough to capture, if you know how to do it.”

“Hm,” Alec said, raising an eyebrow, “And I assume _you_ know how to do it?”

“I _told_ you, Alexander,” Magnus said with a grin that flashed with canines, “I am a _very_ knowledgeable individual.”

“Hm,” Alec said again, sitting back and examining Magnus’s fox form with a careful eye.

He was grateful that they had had this conversation with Magnus in his animal form. Things were less unfocussed this way, without all the distractions that came with a beautiful man, and Alec felt as though he could see his options laid out in front of him in clear rows. 

“Last question for tonight,” Alec said, “How long will this take? Isabelle doesn’t have forever.”

Magnus dipped his head in acquiescence. 

“Indeed. Using the doorways, I don't expect the journey to Vorios to take more than a week. Assuming nothing goes terribly wrong, we should be back here in about a fortnight.”

Two weeks. Far better than the months-long trip that Alec had been mentally planning when he had first learned of the bird’s existence. It was an excellent arrangement, but Alec hesitated before offering his hand.

“Very well,” Alec said, “You will bring me to Vorios to capture the bird, and once Isabelle has been healed, the bird is yours.” 

Magnus flicked his tail.

"Excellent,” he said and, with a flash of blue light, transformed into a man. 

Alec jumped violently at the flash, the dark spots quickly resolving into Magnus's human form. 

“Sorry, should have warned you,” Magnus said, flicking a piece of straight black hair out of his eyes. “This is just so much easier with hands.” 

He grasped Alec’s hand with his own, shaking it once. 

“It’s a deal,” he said.

Alec looked down at their clasped hands. He knew that deals with the Fair Folk weren’t magically binding the way deals with demons were, but something about the way Magnus said those words had the finality of law to them. 

_Oh, Izzy,_ Alec thought, looking up to meet Magnus’s yellow fox eyes, _what have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I make Magnus a faery instead of a warlock? A better question would be: /did/ I make Magnus a faery instead of a warlock?  
> And if I didn’t, then what does that mean for the lies he supposedly couldn’t tell? >.>
> 
> Isabelle said "Fuck Jace, Alec deserves a wacky adventure" and so it was.
> 
> ANYWAYS. keeping with my 2 week update schedule. Feeling OK. Desiring more worldly validation. There is Fire in the Streets but This has been a Long Time Coming So OK. 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone!!!


	4. The Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream is had.  
> A doorway crossed.  
> Wolves and foxes aren't supposed to get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a bit late! Why? Well, I actually promised to let myself have an extra week if I needed it, because:
> 
> 1\. The outline says there are some things I need to establish early on but I couldn’t remember what they were because past me was vague as fuck, so I had to go through my notes which took forever because I am not organized  
> 2\. I had like 4 separate anxiety attacks over 2 days and was feeling depressed in general so there was a period of time where I was lying in bed staring at the walls with zero will to do anything.
> 
> I also went back to previous chapters and did a bit of spot editing, because it makes me feel like I'm in control of my life. There's quotes at the start of all the chapters now!  
> Anyways, I’ve now organized the outline better, I’m back on my anti-anxiety/anti-depression meds, and I've started doing cardio again (ew), so I don’t foresee this happening again, but god DAMN it, turns in mental health are unexpected sometimes :P

**Chapter 4: The Wolves**

_“The Fox went out one moonshiny night_

_And prayed for the moon to give him good light,_

_For he'd many a mile to go that night”_

_-_ “The Fox” (an English Folk Song)

Alec was sweltering in his bedroll.

Though it was not quite summer, it was the sort of late spring night that heralds in the warmth of the season with cloying temperatures that, somewhat paradoxically, arrive as the sun departs. The humidity clung to everything, and Alec ended up more worried about sweating too much than the chill of nighttime. He had set up his bedroll as he usually did, with his wool blanket laid over his oiled ground cloth, ready to be folded into a bivy at a moment’s notice, but he had ended up lying on top of the blanket instead of cocooning himself inside of it.

Despite the heat, Alec managed to fall asleep curled up on his side with his head pillowed by the crook of his arm. It was a light sleep, so much so that, when something stepped onto the edge of his bedroll, he half awoke. Cracking an eye open, Alec noted hazily that it was Magnus, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim.

He was a fox again, transforming after announcing that human forms weren’t made for sleeping in the woods, and had seemed content to curl up at the base of a tree for the night. It was curious that he was moving around now, after sighing about his need for rest all evening.

On a whim, Alec closed his eyes and kept his breathing steady. For a tense moment, Magnus didn’t do anything but stand at the edge of Alec’s bedroll. Then, slowly, he tiptoed over Alec’s legs, his tail brushing against Alec’s calf, and carefully, carefully, curled up in the bend of Alec’s knees.

Alec didn't move, waiting. He was struck with the memory of Church the cat, curled up on his bed the same way when Alec was young. The animal had sought out the warmth and safety of company, and Alec had relished in the same.

But Alec was too tired to wonder if Magnus’s reasons were similar to the old cat’s. He was too tired to wonder at all, or even keep the thought in his mind, and he drifted back off into sleep pleased that the palace cat had decided to keep him company.

.o.O.o.

Alec’s dreams had often been vivid to the point that they were sometimes difficult to parse apart from reality. Once, when he was first learning the ropes of being a ruler, he dreamed that he went to a meeting with the nobles of York, which had been scheduled for the next day. The dream had been so life-like that he had awoken with the firm belief that the meeting was already over, and he had gone about his day as such. He had been terribly confused when his parents came to yell at him for missing it.

That night, sleeping in Brocelind forest, he did _not_ have one of those dreams. Instead, he knew at once that nothing he saw was real; not the forest he was running through, and not the red fox he was chasing. There was no vegetation to confuse the path, but the fox’s tail always stayed just _barely_ ahead of him, blocked from his sight by the vague sense of _things obscured._

 _This is not real_ , he thought, watching the dynamic shadows closing around the fox, _I am dreaming._

Despite the realization, Alec did not slow. The sense of urgency beneath his skin that told him to _chase_ was tempered by the curiosity of seeing what his sleeping mind had in store for him next.

A moment later he burst into a clearing to find Magnus the man, waiting for him at the confluence of the two streams beneath the sprawling branches of the strange tree. The tree was still strange, but in a different way, with glowing yellow flowers that seemed to drip from the branches in bunches like grapes, individual flowers occasionally breaking away in tiny droplets that fell slower than gravity should allow. They illuminated Magnus’s face with dramatic shadows that made him appear both welcoming and dangerous.

Magnus was dressed in the livery of a Seelie revel, draped in a silvery cape that glinted like dewdrops on spider silk. There were lily-of-the-valley flowers woven into his hair, and they trembled like little white bells as he tilted his head to the side.

Magnus smiled, and he was so beautiful that Alec’s chest ached.

“Alexander,” Magnus said, extending a hand towards him, palm-up. “Come and dance with me.”

The sound of flutes rose up around them. Alec knew of the risks associated with dancing with faeries, of course. How they could make you dance until your feet bled, and how you would happily continue until you died of exhaustion. He knew better than to accept such an invitation from a charming fox.

He knew better, but then again, this _was_ a dream.

He took Magnus’s hand.

Magnus pulled him close, curving an arm around Alec’s waist and spinning him around. Alec stumbled, stepping on Magnus’s toes, but Magnus just laughed at Alec’s panicked expression.

“Never fear, darling,” he said, golden eyes tracing Alec’s face with tenderness. “I shall teach you the steps.”

He did not, in fact, teach Alec the steps. Instead, Alec looked up from his feet and caught Magnus’s gaze, and his two left feet faded from his attention, the motions smoothing into unfocused grace.

 _This is a dream_ , Alec thought distantly. He ached to lean his weight on Magnus, place his head on his shoulder, but he refrained.

Magnus watched Alec's face knowingly.

“Tell me, princeling,” Magnus said, turning them in a slow circle to the faint music, “Why do you hesitate, even now?”

Alec scoffed, even as his hand tightened around Magnus’s. He did not have to ask what he meant; it was as clear as his own words spoken.

“Would you like a detailed list, or just a general overview?” he asked, keeping his gaze on Magnus’s collarbone.

Magnus made a considering noise but did not answer. The silence stretched between them, and Alec risked a glance at Magnus’s face. A droplet of light had caught on his cheekbone, and it lingered for a moment before their slow movement knocked it loose and it continued to fall. Magnus didn’t seem to notice. Alec swallowed.

“Consequences,” Alec said. “Expectations. It’s surprisingly easy to lose everything. My people. My kingdom. My family. Lives have been ruined for less than being a man who lays with other men.”

Magnus clicked his tongue, looking doubtful. “There is very little in life that cannot be lost, but that is not what I asked.” He leaned forward, lips brushing against the shell of Alec’s ear. “Why do you hesitate _now_? _Here_? No one will know if you dream of kissing pretty men.”

Alec shivered.

“I will know,” he whispered. “It is better to walk away, not knowing what you’re missing, than to be granted but a taste and spend the rest of your life craving.”

“Oh?” Magnus said. “But surely dreams don’t count. Come now. A bit of pleasure never hurt anyone.”

“On the contrary,” Alec said, looking up at the little yellow lights over their heads. “The path to doom is often paved with pleasure.”

“Hm,” Magnus clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed. He pulled back so he could look at Alec’s face, eyes tracking over his expression with careful flicks. Alec watched as his lips parted and the pink tip of a tongue wetted his bottom lip, leaving a shiny gloss behind.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut.

The feeling of being held loosened, and desperately, Alec thought: _don’t go_.

In an instant, he was spun around, the world beneath his eyelids spiralling over his head with dizzying speed for an instant before he was caught, a warm body pressed against the length of his back.

Alec blinked his eyes open as Magnus looped one arm around his waist, holding him flush against him. The flute music faded, slowly leaking from the air in a slow drip of honey.

“Magnus?” Alec asked, unsure.

“Shh,” Magnus hushed, lips shiveringly close to Alec’s ear. He slid his hand down the length of Alec’s right arm all the way to his fingers, where he interlaced them with his own. “I have you, angel.”

Alec closed his eyes, feeling the heat of Magnus pressed behind him, and released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“I know,” Alec said, pressing himself back into Magnus. He felt Magnus’s chuckle reverberate through his chest, so deeply that it might have been his own laughter.

Magnus muttered something else in his ear, but Alec didn’t catch the words.

“Hm?” Alec asked. Magnus began to nuzzle at his neck, and Alec tilted his head to give him better access. “What did you say?”

Magnus said it again, but this time was even less clear than before. Alec frowned and opened his eyes.

He wasn’t under the magic tree anymore. He was at the campsite, the light of pre-dawn bringing the world into dim focus.

The only thing that remained from the dream was the warmth of a body pressed along the length of his back, an arm wrapped securely around his waist, and someone nuzzling his neck.

Alec stiffened, and Magnus immediately perked up behind him.

“Good morning!” Magnus sat up, all too cheerful. “I was wondering when you would wake. Shall we have some breakfast?”

Alec half rolled over, staring at Magnus blearily.

“Whadsgoinom—,” Alec said, tongue still mostly asleep.

Magnus frowned, reaching out to touch Alec’s face.

“Are you OK?” he asked, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough sleep? I can never remember how much sleep humans need. Nephilim humans, I mean.”

Alec stared at him. Magnus’s hair was a bit sleep-mussed, with pieces going every-which-way, and it looked like there were some little black smudges at the corners of his eyes. Makeup, Alec recognized weakly.

“You—,” Alec cleared his throat, glancing away, “You’re… again.”

“Huh?” Magnus looked down at himself. “Oh! Yes, back to two legs. I discovered that, with a bedroll, sleeping in the forest as a human is surprisingly enjoyable!”

Alec swallowed a few times, trying to wet his tongue. Magnus handed him a canteen, which came from apparently nowhere, and Alec took it gratefully, thankful for the excuse not to speak.

Magnus yawned, stretching his back with a soft _pop_ , and then clapped his hands together.

“Right then! How do you like your eggs?”

Alec blinked.

“My eggs?”

Magnus reached out his hands and began to wave them in a quick, deliberate pattern, blue sparks streaking in the air with his movements. He made a final motion, like plucking a string on a lute, and suddenly he held a steaming plate in his hands. He handed it to Alec. It had three fried eggs and an entire loaf of bread.

“I can’t actually make them any way except fried,” Magnus said brightly. “So you get fried.”

Alec wondered for a moment about the safety of eating food magically procured from unknown sources, but the gnawing of his stomach quickly convinced him not to worry about it. Besides, he had drank from the canteen, and it hadn’t killed him. Not yet, at least.

The eggs were a bit rubbery, overcooked on the bottom and raw on the top, but the bread was as warm as if it were fresh from the oven, and that more than made up for the breakfast’s shortcomings. Magnus sat across from him with an identical plate, an amused expression playing along his face as he watched Alec put away two of the eggs and a good portion of the bread in less than a minute.

“So,” Magnus said between small bites, watching Alec stuff more bread into his mouth, “You know where the first doorway is. Once we’re through, the second one will take a while to reach, and we’ll need to make camp there.”

“Mmhm,” Alec said through his mouthful. Magnus nodded as if he had just made a very good point.

“Yes, I foresee good weather and fair travels. Nevertheless, it is always wise to err on the side of caution in unfamiliar lands. Are you any good with a sword?”

Alec swallowed his bread, shrugging.

“I’m no master,” he said, “But I can hold my own in a fight, if it comes to that. I prefer to stay on the outskirts with my bow and arrows, though.”

Magnus glanced at Alec’s bow, which was propped up against a tree behind him.

“A strange choice of weapon for a first prince,” he said, “Is it not more traditional to hone your skills with a sword, rather than wander to other, less glorious types of combat?”

Alec scoffed, mopping up the last of his yolk on his plate with his bread.

“I put in the hours with my blade, and then some,” he said, “But one can only take so much humiliation at the hands of their little brother before becoming discouraged. Archery, on the other hand, was something I excelled at right from the start. Not even Jace can beat me.”

“Hmm,” Magnus said, resting his chin on his hand and looking at Alec through his eyelashes, “Not very glorious, though, hanging back to shoot arrows from afar.”

“That’s fine,” Alec said, popping the last bit of bread in his mouth, “Let Jace be the golden prince that the kingdom coos over. It is best to provide the support that is needed, even if it doesn’t provide the glory one may desire.”

Magnus stared at Alec, and Alec’s heartbeat went up a notch. He looked away, suddenly embarrassed by his own words.

Magnus cleared his throat, getting to his feet.

“Well,” he said, shooting Alec a lopsided smile as he vanished his empty plate, “If you’re done with breakfast, I do believe we should head out as soon as we’re able.”

Alec agreed, and busied himself for the next few minutes packing up his bedroll. He was tightening one of the straps when he caught a flash of light in his periphery.

He looked up to find Magnus inspecting himself in a hand mirror. He had fixed his bedhead and apparently decided to re-apply his smudged makeup. Instead of the barely-there hint of eyeliner that Alec hadn’t even noticed yesterday, Magnus had opted for darker, thicker slashes of black around each eye. It was a style that Alec had never seen Isabelle, or anyone else, wear, but it was undeniably striking.

Magnus considered his reflection for a moment, then snapped his fingers next to his ear. There was a wisp of blue magic, and as it passed over his pointed ears, they became pierced with several bits of silvery metal, paired with an ear cuff. He snapped his fingers again, and rings appeared on nearly every finger, glinting with precious metals and stones.

Alec blinked in surprise. He had never heard of any of the Fair Folk wearing _metal_ as decoration before, much less _pierced through their flesh_. In fact, everything he had read had pointed to a negative reaction to the stuff that bordered on it being _poison_ for them. The bracelet on Magnus’s right wrist, which was a hand’s-width thick and might have been made of either bark or leather, laced tight, was more characteristic of what faeries were supposed to prefer.

Another snap, and Magnus’s clothes changed into a royal blue tunic, edged in golden embroidery. Like this, he stood out in the forest like a peacock amongst sparrows.

Magnus checked his reflection, made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, and vanished the mirror with a satisfied smirk. He spun around and caught Alec’s eye, holding out his arms for his appraisal.

“What do you think?” Magnus asked, turning slowly on the spot.

Alec fumbled for words, quickly turning back to tightening his bedroll to hide the reddening of his ears. “I—it’s—I mean. Um. Good?”

Magnus laughed, apparently delighted by Alec’s incomprehensible answer.

They packed up camp, Alec tying his meagre supplies to his horse’s saddle while Magnus vanished his things, and soon they were ready to leave.

Despite the effort Magnus had put into his appearance, he immediately turned back into a fox to run ahead of Alec on horseback. Although the hardwood forest was not too dense for the horse to navigate off-trail, it slowed them considerably, and the fox’s superior maneuverability meant he spent a good portion of the trip waiting for Alec to catch up.

The stream was lined with brambles and stinging nettle, which were not ideal for riding through, so Alec led his horse into the water and rode against the flow, hooves clattering against the rocky streambed as Magnus hopped from rock to rock, red fur glinting in the morning sunlight.

Soon, they returned to the confluence of the streams and Magnus turned back into a human. He approached the odd tree, which Alec noted with a blush was no longer laden with yellow lights, and waved his hands back and forth. His palms flexed as if he were feeling along the side of an injured animal for a broken bone. Finally, he stopped with his hands outstretched and looked over his shoulder to grin at Alec.

“Watch this,” he said, and then, with a shower of sparks that he stirred with a lazy twirl of his finger, the air in front of the tree began to shimmer. The disturbance grew in a spiral pattern, pushed outward by a thread of gold until it was as tall as Alec on horseback, and then, with a final jerk of Magnus’s arm, consolidated into a glowing circle. The edges were misty, while the centre was an indistinct twist of something translucent that Alec could _almost_ see through.

Magnus half-turned, reaching out a hand and grasping a strap on Alec’s saddle.

“I will guide you through the doorway,” he said, tipping his head towards it. “Try to keep your mind blank, but if you _must_ think of something, think of me. It will help to keep us together.”

Alec swallowed and nodded, afraid to ask what might happen if they _didn’t_ remain together. Magnus smiled and, turning back towards the doorway, tugged them into the swirling colours.

.o.O.o.

A few minutes later, Alec was off his horse and sitting on the ground with his head between his knees, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“That,” Alec said, voice shaking, “Was terrible.”

Magnus kneeled beside him, looking concerned.

“I should have mentioned that doorway travel can be disorienting the first few times one tries it,” he pressed the back of his hand to Alec's forehead. “Although, I've never seen anyone react quite this bad before.”

The horse didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the whole ordeal, already nosing curiously at some ferns. Alec took another deep breath, loosening the laces of his shirt to cool off a touch as he tried to orient himself.

They were still in a forest, but it was a different kind of forest, dominated by ancient softwood trees that were laden with needles as long as his forearm and with scaly, plate-like leaves. It seemed like most every tree was large enough that it would take at least four grown men to encircle the trunk with their arms, and between the trees, there was a dense snarl of vines, ferns, and other greenery that looked like a nightmare to bush-whack.

“Where are we?” Alec asked.

“Hmm?” Magnus said, tearing his eyes away from whatever they had caught on in the area of Alec's chest. “Oh, I don’t know if this place has a name, or at least not one that very many people have agreed upon. Too many languages in this area for that kind of consensus. But I’m certain it’s very, _very_ far from your kingdom.”

“Oh?” Alec said, his stomach swooping with sudden dread. “How many days ride, would you say?”

Magnus looked thoughtful.

“Hard to say,” he said at last, “Since one can hardly ride a horse across an ocean.”

Alec swallowed, realizing with sudden nervousness how easily Magnus could abandon him here, on the far side of the doorway, and how little Alec could do to stop him. He felt a pang of regret for not insisting upon some sort of magical oath from Magnus as part of their deal.

Magnus didn’t seem to notice Alec’s unease.

“The nice thing about the Golden Bird’s doorways,” he said, nodding at something to Alec's left, “Is that they’re all two-way. To get back to the yew tree, we just have to find the grandfather tree.”

Alec turned, mouth already opening to ask what the “grandfather tree” was, and froze.

While there were many astoundingly large trees around them, _this_ tree was the largest Alec had ever seen. The trunk was easily four times wider than Alec’s horse was long. He imagined it would take about a _dozen_ grown men to circle the tree with their arms.

“Woah,” Alec said, tilting his head back to try and see how high the tree went. He couldn’t see the top.

Magnus chuckled.

“’Woah’ is right,” he said, “That tree is at least 800 years old. Which is impressive, even for a giant fir.”

“Are all of the doorways marked by trees?” Alec asked.

“No,” Magnus said, getting up to approach the base of the trunk. “There are streams of energy beneath the earth that cross and pool and spiral in certain spots. The roots from the legend, if you will. That’s what determines where the doorways appear. It just so happens that the energy _also_ makes it a prime spot for growing some _excellent_ trees.” He knocked twice on the great tree's trunk, as if to assure it that, indeed, it was one of the excellent ones, then spun around to grin at Alec. “Feeling better? Shall we continue on our way?”

Alec reluctantly agreed, and they spent the next few hours picked their way down an overgrown path, which was little more than a line of trampled vegetation. The only thing that made the trail bearable was that the low branches had been cleared enough that Alec could ride with his head up, rather than bowed to protect his eyes from a constant barrage of shark twigs and dripping sap.

Magnus remained in his human form this time, walking alongside the horse’s slow meander as the ground grew rockier and more difficult to traverse. Alec had to dismount several times and lead the horse through particularly treacherous stretches of the path. He kept his gaze on his feet, stepping carefully to avoid a flipped ankle, but Magnus seemed to have no qualms with flouncing off and on the path, every now and then plucking a leaf, a stick, or, once, a cheerful yellow flower, and vanishing them with little flicks of magic, probably tucked away into some invisible place for later use.

At one point, wide-leaved plants began to appear in patches, and Magnus made a small noise of excitement. He bent down and ripped off a few leaves, crushing them in his hand and offering them to Alec to smell. Alec hesitantly obliged and discovered that they smelt strongly of vanilla. Magnus laughed at his shocked expression and picked a few more leaves for his invisible collection.

Alec was trying to urge the horse to scale a rocky shelf that was about as high as Alec’s hip, when Magnus suddenly froze. His face shifted into acute concern. The horse finally hopped onto the shelf with a huff of effort, and Magnus immediately turned away to flutter his fingers through the air, the blue glow of his magic appearing easily. His face creased more deeply.

“What is it?” Alec asked, “What’s wrong?”

Magnus glanced at him, pressing his mouth into a smile that was more of a grimace.

“Well, Nothing’s _wrong_ , per se. There’s no such thing as a demon-free forest, after all.”

Alec tensed. “You’re saying there’s _demons_ nearby?” he asked, grabbing for the hilt of his seraph blade.

Magnus shook his head, waving his hand to dissipate the magic as if it were a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. It could also be that they passed through a few days ago. Just to be safe, though, you should string your bow,” he said, jerking his head towards where it was strapped to the horse’s saddle, “But don’t nock any arrows unless I say. We wouldn’t want to offend the local pack.”

Alec was already unstrapping his bow and nearly dropped it in alarm.

“ _Pack!?_ ” he echoed, spinning to face Magnus.

“Yes,” Magnus said, “The werewolf pack living in this forest. We’ve been in their territory for a while now.”

“And you’re only mentioning this _now_?”

“They’re friendly,” Magnus defended, “I’m actually going to pay them a visit before we move on through the next doorway. Make sure they’re doing ok.”

Alec shook his head, stringing his bow with quick, practiced motions. He wasn’t sure if foxes and wolves _usually_ got along, but he supposed that didn’t matter as much when dealing with downworlders.

They continued up the path on foot, Alec leading the horse by the bridle. The terrain kept getting rougher as they moved up in elevation. Alec was sticky with sweat, and after what felt like hours of trekking over and between boulders, Magnus finally threw an arm out to stop him. His head tilted to the side, listening.

Several long moments stretched out, and just as Alec began to relax from his defensive stance, he felt Magnus stiffen beside him.

“ _Demons_ ,” he whispered, and before Alec could react, he had whirled around, hands raised, and shot a beam of yellow magic into the trees. High-pitched voices screeched. Alec pulled an arrow from his quiver, but before he could nock it and take aim, something very tiny and very sharp cut into Alec’s leg. He grunted in pain, leg folding beneath him. Along his pantleg, white, needle-thin shards of bone stuck out.

“Ostei!” Alec gritted out, grabbing a different arrow from his quiver as he forced himself back to his feet. “They're ostei demons!”

He whispered the runes on the arrow into life as he shot it into the canopy. It exploded into brilliant white light on impact, sending the swarm of tiny figures scattering like whiteflies. Ostei demons were tiny, spiny things, difficult to deal with in large groups, but luckily, they were burnt by angelic light.

Magnus shouted, swinging an arm around, and a glowing blue wall was thrown up around them. There was a soft _tink-tink-tink_ as more projectiles shattered against the glowing blue barrier, then a lower _thunk_ when one larger shard stuck like a knife thrown into a plank of wood.

Alec fired more arrows in quick succession.

“You’re hurt,” Magnus said, arms held aloft as he braced his defences against another wave of spines. He looked down at him, brow creased.

“I’m fine,” Alec said, shooting another arrow.

Magnus’s face hardened and, with a sharp twist of his hand, sent a burst of blinding yellow light outwards in a wave. Alec flinched as it washed over him, his mind automatically correlating the colour and intensity of light with _fire_ , but it passed him by harmlessly. The ostei, on the other hand, began to fall from the trees like insects in a frost.

Magnus turned and pointed at Alec's leg with an almost accusatory finger. A wash of magic, this time tinged red, swept over him, and the spikes disappeared into dust, along with the pain. Alec shifted, flexing and extending his leg experimentally.

“Thanks,” he said, resting his hand on his stele, “but I could have gotten that.” In truth, ostei demon spikes were a pain to heal with runes. Before an _iratze_ could be applied, each of the barbed spikes had to be removed, which was never a pleasant endeavour.

Magnus gave him a knowing look, a weak smile tugging at his lips, and promptly sagged into Alec’s side. Alec steadied him and, when it became clear that he was having trouble holding himself up, ducked under his arm to take most of his weight.

“Magnus?” Alec said. Magnus’s head lolled to the side. “What’s wrong?”

Magnus shook his head, trying to pull away. Alec tightened his hold.

“I’m fine,” Magnus said. “That was just… a lot of magic.”

Alec opened his mouth to ask what _that_ meant, exactly, when a scream cut through the air, high-pitched and distinctly childlike. Magnus whipped his head towards the noise and lunged in its direction, tearing himself away from Alec and immediately stumbling to the ground. Alec cursed under his breath, running past Magnus.

“I’ll go,” Alec said over his shoulder, hand already poised to pull an arrow from his quiver. “You stay here!”

Magnus looked like he wanted to argue, but Alec didn’t give him the chance. He sprinted up the hill and came upon a queen ostei demon facing down a little girl who couldn’t have been older than seven.

The skinless demon loomed over her with its wide, gaping mouth, a scraping laugh gasping through its empty ribcage. Its head was a sun-bleached elk skull, antlers and all, with eyes that glowed a dark, eery red and teeth that looked like they had come from a crocodile. The little girl’s eyes flashed werewolf-green even as she began to cry harder, pressing her back against the rockface that the demon had backed her against.

Alec nocked his arrow.

“ _Sélas_ ,” he whispered, and the runes etched along the arrow shaft lit up. He shot the arrow and, aim true, hit the demon right between its bare shoulder blades, at the juncture of two vertebrae. It shrieked in pain, whirling around towards Alec just in time to take another arrow to the sternum before it lunged.

Alec swung his bow, connecting a strike to the demon’s neck before his weapon was grabbed by a clawed hand and wrenched from his grasp. Alec jumped back, pulling his sword free as the demon tossed the bow aside. He gripped the adamas tightly.

“ _Nuriel,_ ” he murmured, and the sword lit up in blinding white. The demon did not react, but the little girl made a small noise of surprise. The demon paused, head tilted towards the sound.

Alec used the momentary distraction to throw himself forward, slashing at the demon's side in a quick pass. It automatically curled around the wound, and Alec took the opportunity to jump onto its back, aiming a stab at the base of its skull. He struck true, but the bone did not yield, and his blade harmlessly skidded off of its target.

The demon screeched, reaching back and grabbing for Alec with its wicked-sharp claws. They tore a bloody line down his forearm, rousing a pained shout from Alec’s throat, before gripping him tightly and flinging him off its back.

Alec landed hard, rolling to try and keep from jostling his injured arm too much, and managed to come to a stop on his feet, Nuriel pointed at the demon. It had managed to toss Alec between itself and the little girl, which suited Alec just fine.

The demon struck.

Alec struck back, slicing upwards.

The demon’s head fell from its shoulders.

A spray of black ichor nearly got Alec across the face, acrid and fowl, and the demon shrieked before finally crumbling away to dust.

Alec immediately dropped Nuriel, panting as he scrawled a wound-cleaning rune on his arm before looking over at the little girl, who was still standing frozen against the rock. He took a deep breath and approached, kneeling in front of her to put them at a more equal height.

“Hey,” he said softly, “Are you injured?”

The girl didn’t reply. She was clutching her arm to her chest, and Alec reached out, intending to check it for injuries, but she flinched back from him so violently that he froze. The girl’s bottom lip was trembling.

“Are—,” she hiccupped, “Are you going to take me away?”

Alec blinked, sure he had misheard.

“I— what?”

She sniffled. “Or are you just going to kill me, like you did Johnny, and Ned, and Davey?”

“No,” Alec quickly assured her, holding up his hands in surrender, “ _No_ , I’m not here to hurt you, or do anything bad.”

The girl shook her head, crying harder, and threw her head back to let out an ear-splitting howl.

Alec flinched, eyes darting around them.

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” he said, “There could be more demons around here.”

The little girl scowled.

“I was calling my pack,” she said, baring her teeth. “So even if you take me, they’ll still get your scent. They’ll _find_ me.”

Alec wasn’t sure who this girl thought he was, but he didn’t like the implications.

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” Alec said, “Really! I’m just trying to help.”

The girl didn’t look like she believed him, but before she could tell him so, she paused, tilting her head to listen. Alec watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Luke!” she called out. Alec looked up to see a large black man with glowing green eyes and bared fangs stalking towards them. Alec shrunk in on himself, suddenly aware that his bow and his sword were both out of reach. He held out his hands, palms out.

“I—,” he started.

“Lucian!”

Luke faltered, whipping his head around to where Magnus was stumbling over the hill, a fox again.

“Magnus?” Luke said. His face shifted from fuming to surprise, teeth suddenly fitting in his mouth, “What are you doing back so soon? Did something happen?”

Magnus shook his head, panting to catch his breath as he sat down in front of Luke.

“No, no, everything is fine. I’m just passing through the area, thought I’d stop by to see how things are going,” he said, nodding towards Alec. “Alec here is on a quest to catch the Golden Bird, and I’m bringing him through the doorways.”

“Alec?” Luke asked, glancing at where Alec was still kneeling next to the little girl. Luke made a show of inhaling through his nose, his expression twisting in distaste. Alec suspected that was for his benefit; there was no way his werewolf nose hadn’t smelt him already. “You mean the nephilim?”

“The very same! Speaking of—”

Magnus got to his feet with a small huff and made a beeline for Alec, who held out his arms, fully prepared to catch him if the need should arise. Instead, Magnus nosed at Alec’s injured arm, a faint glow of magic already starting up around him in a halo. Alec flinched away from his touch.

Magnus recoiled, ears back.

“Alexander?” he sounded hurt

“You’re already running low on magic,” Alec said, pulling his stele out of the holder on his belt, “I can handle this much on my own.”

He scrawled a quick _iratze_ on his bicep. The demon wound didn’t close, but it did stop bleeding, which was good enough for the short-term. He flexed his hand, flinching a bit at the sting, and scrawled a _painkiller_ rune for good measure.

When he looked up, Magnus looked a bit put-out, but he quickly perked up again. He turned to Luke, who was now kneeling beside the little girl

“Has this been happening a lot?” Magnus asked, nodding at the pile of ashes that was formerly a demon.

Luke shook his head, not looking away from what he was doing as he felt along the girl’s injured arm.

“Not nearly as much as before the move, but there’s definitely been an uptick lately,” he frowned at the girl’s injury, “This needs to be set.”

Magnus nodded.

“Let’s bring her back to camp,” he said, looking north, “I can work better if I’m inside my wards and not worried about little bone demons attacking me when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“Agreed,” Luke said, but then paused, glancing at Alec. “Though, _he_ isn’t coming, is he?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. I’ll vouch for him. Alec won’t harm you or your pack.”

Luke and Alec both looked at Magnus in surprise.

“But he’s a _nephilim_ ,” Luke argued. “How do we know he isn’t one of _them_?”

“Because he isn’t,” Magnus said, tail swishing.

Luke looked like he still didn’t like it, but the girl was making little hurt noises. After a long moment, Luke inhaled deeply and nodded. It was as good of a blessing as Alec was going to get, so he whistled for his horse, which came to him obediently from the other side of the hill. The little girl perked up at the sight of the animal, although she quickly tried to mask her expression. Alec pretended he didn’t notice.

One hand on the horse’s bridle, Alec followed Luke through the forest. They had abandoned the path, but at this point the terrain was rocky enough that few plants could grow, so it wasn’t too difficult a trek.

Despite the easy path, Alec soon felt the dull throb of a demon wound headache. At one point, Magnus had to physically block his path by butting his calf with his head until he went _around_ a patch of shiny-leafed plants that he had been about to walk through. Magnus watched the plants with acute suspicion as they passed.

It was another thirty or so minutes until they came to a large, open area of rockface that had the werewolf village at its centre. Alec paused at the treeline to stare.

From how Magnus had talked about them, Alec had assumed the pack here was well-established, but this village couldn’t have been built more than a few weeks ago. There were only a handful of small buildings, and the ones that did exist were haphazardly assembled, many of the logs still sporting fresh green leaves on branches that hadn’t been trimmed away. None of them looked like they could even keep out the rain.

There were werewolves gathered around a fire at the centre of the village, sitting and talking or otherwise working, and from what Alec could see, there were far more than could be housed in the shelters at a given time.

Alec suddenly realized that, while he had stopped to gape at the hasty settlement, his companions had continued on without hesitation. A few of the werewolves spotted them approaching and shouted greetings. One, a dark-skinned woman with textured hair pulled into a bun, immediately jumped to her feet and ran towards them with werewolf speed.

The little girl broke away from Luke.

“Maia!” she shouted, cradling her arm to her chest as she ran into the embrace of the young woman, who might have been an older sister. Maia squeezed the girl tightly, whispering something furiously in her ear. Alec couldn’t tell if the girl was being scolded or showered with anxious _I love you_ ’s.

Magnus trotted up to them, bumping Maia’s arm with his head and saying something. Maia barely glanced at the talking fox, listening to him for a moment before loosening her embrace so he could go about healing the child’s arm.

A few more werewolves approached as Magnus finished his work, greeting him with familiarity and a few even ruffling his ears as if he were a pet. Magnus was visibly pleased, his ears perked and tail swishing in excitement as he wove between peoples’ legs like an over-friendly house cat. A small pack of children came running, shouting his name in excitement, and he jumped up to meet them. He collided with one of the children, and they immediately began to roll around the ground in a snarling, giggling tangle. A moment later the child had turned into a wolf pup, pinning Magnus with a victorious _yip!,_ only for Magnus to quickly wiggle out from beneath him and run around the squealing group of children in circles. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he ran, gekkering excitedly. The children all laughed, a few more changing into their wolf forms and nipping at his tail as they took chase.

Alec was watching Magnus wrestle with the children, amused, when he realized that he had been noticed lurking in the shade by some _very_ unhappy-looking werewolves. One of them was growling low in her throat, and there were more than a few flashing eyes and barred teeth. Luke’s glare was not the least of them, but he made a quick hand gesture that had the other wolves falling back slightly.

“Magnus,” Luke said, voice steely, “We need to talk.”

Magnus stopped. The pups froze in the shadow of their alpha’s anger, shrinking back with their tails between their legs. Magnus drooped a bit as he watched them go before, with a great sigh, he returned to his human form, looking even paler than before.

“Alright,” he said, making to move towards Alec, “let me just—.”

“The nephilim stays here,” Luke interrupted. He pointed at Maia, who was still embracing the little girl. “Maia. Watch him.”

Maia lifted her head to glare at Alec. She leaned down to murmur something in the little girl’s ear that had her pouting before extracting herself from the embrace and running off to join the group at the fire.

Magnus grimaced at Alec apologetically, moving his hand in an aborted gesture, but he didn’t argue as he followed Luke to the edge of the camp.

Alec pursed his lips, glancing at Maia, who he saw was watching Luke out of the corner of her eye, and subtly slid his stele into his palm. His _enhanced hearing_ rune was on his right thigh for exactly this reason: stealthy activation while being watched. He ran his hand across his leg, activating the simple rune through the fabric of his pants, and felt the rush of angelic magic pouring into his veins.

All at once, a cacophony of sound crashed over him: the crackle of the fire, rustle of wind through the trees, and the voices of numerous people speaking in hushed tones. He quickly tucked away the stele and screwed his face up in concentration, trying to focus his attention on the two men standing with their heads bowed together…

Magnus was speaking.

“… mutually beneficial arrangement,” he said what sounded like the end of a sentence.

“I’m sure,” Luke deadpanned. Alec could see the stiff way Luke was holding himself. “But why did you have to bring him _here?_ We came here to get _away_ from them, and you bring one right to our doorstep?”

Magnus barked a laugh.

“Alexander didn’t even know we were coming here,” he said, crossing his arms. “And he has nothing to do with the nephilim problem. We can hardly help where the Golden Bird’s doorways take us, and considering he wasn’t even _aware_ of the Golden Bird until I told him about it, there’s no way he could have planned to come here.”

“Oh?” Luke said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I suppose that _no_ nephilim has _ever_ been opportunistic. Are you sure there wasn’t any _other_ reason you agreed to help him?”

There was a pause, and when Magnus spoke, his voice was strained.

“He was kind to me when he thought I was nothing but a common fox, with no thought of selfish gain,” Magnus seemed to show Luke something in his hand, accompanied by the sound of rustling fabric. “One kind deed deserves another.”

Luke’s voice went from exasperated to horrified in an instant.

“ _Magnus_ ,” he hissed, grabbing Magnus’s arm and trying to get him to lower it, “Are you _insane?_ ”

Magnus shrugged, pulling free from Luke’s grip and dropping his hand.

“No more insane than usual,” he said, fiddling with whatever he was holding.

“Magnus,” Luke said, “Do you even understand what that _means_?!”

“It _means_ ,” Magnus said, “That I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

“It won’t protect you, Magnus,” he said. “I used to _be_ one of them. There are ways around it, he’ll _know_ how to—.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Magnus snapped. “I know what it means _,_ and I know what I’m doing, Lucian.”

Luke made a noise, likely the beginning of another argument, but Magnus spoke over him before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Enough!” Magnus yelled, the sudden increase in volume making Alec jump in surprise, “What’s done is done, Lucian, no matter how you feel about it.”

Luke sighed in a way that sounded like surrender, posture drooping with the release of his breath.

“Very well,” he said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. “I’ll give your nephilim the benefit of the doubt, for you.”

Magnus released a loud breath.

“Thank you, Lucian.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke grumbled, though the fondness in his voice ruined it. “How long have you known him, anyway?”

Magnus made a considering noise.

“Three days?” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Alec, who tried to act like he hadn’t been watching them. “Almost four now.”

“ _Magnus_.”

“Yes, yes,” Magnus said impatiently, “You think I’m a foolish fool making bad life choices. I heard you the first _thousand times_.”

“Maybe you heard me,” Luke said, voice rising in frustration, “But you obviously didn’t _listen_.”

Magnus scoffed, but it was as if someone had put a pin in his anger. He slowly deflated, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. When he spoke, it was a whisper.

“I have to do this, Lucian,” Magnus said, “Even without this,” he paused as if gesturing at something. “it’s the right thing to do.”

Luke still didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. His posture also looked tired, the fight draining out of him.

“Just… be careful, ok? It wouldn’t be the first time you were fooled by a pretty face.”

Magnus laughed, mood instantly improving.

“He _is_ quite pretty, isn’t he?” he said, sighing dreamily. Luke groaned in playful exasperation, and Alec could feel the air around them lose the rest of its tension.

“But enough about me and my ill-advised crushes,” Magnus said, slapping Luke’s shoulder companionably. “How are things here? Any signs of trouble?”

Luke shrugged, and they started to make their way back. Magnus stayed close enough to Luke that their arms remained in contact.

“Not really, no,” said Luke. “The slight increase in demon activity isn’t anything too unusual, assuming it doesn’t last. Oh, although the mundanes living in this area seem to know we’re here. We’ve found some evidence of them watching us a few times, always from a distance.”

Magnus frowned, approaching where Maia was still glaring at Alec.

“That could be a problem. I tried to put you somewhere that wouldn’t be a problem for them, resource-wise, but there could always be unforeseen factors,” he broke off to greet Maia. “Maia, my dear, it’s _so_ nice to see you.”

He pulled her close, pressing their cheeks together and squeezing her shoulders. She rolled her eyes but chuckled, unenthusiastically returning the embrace.

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too, Mags,” she said. She pulled away and glanced at Luke, who nodded once. This seemed to be some kind of dismissal, because Maia squeezed Magnus’s shoulder once more and then retreated to the fire, where the little girl was busy being fretted over by the adults.

Alec’s mouth ticked up when he saw the little girl brighten at Maia’s approach, but he quickly schooled his features when he saw Luke watching him.

Alec cleared his throat. “These mundanes, you don’t think they’ll try and attack, do you?”

Luke shook his head.

“They don’t seem aggressive. Just… curious.”

“Hm,” Magnus said, biting his lip. “It’s better if you don’t interact with them. I doubt lycanthropy has reached this part of the world, and accidents do happen. A packless werewolf, running around unchecked, could cause a lot of problems for them. I should cast something to keep them back from this spot. Maybe a diverted awareness glamour would work?”

Alec frowned.

“That sounds like it would take a lot of magic. Are you sure that’s OK?”

Magnus rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please. It’ll take, at most, a _pinch_ of magic,” he scoffed, but then he caught Alec’s look and softened slightly. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll wait until tomorrow to do it.”

Alec felt his face warm. “It— it’s not about how _I_ feel. I don’t—you’re the one—.”

Magnus touched his shoulder, making him go silent.

“Are you sure _you’re_ ok?” Magnus asked, face concerned as he looked meaningfully at Alec’s injured forearm.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, pulling his stele from his sleeve and scrawling another _iratze_ and _painkiller_ rune on his bicep, over where the first ones had faded to faint white impressions on his skin. Even as they watched, these runes, too, faded from stark black to near invisibility almost as fast as Alec had drawn them.

The injury didn’t look any better, and Magnus didn’t look comforted. He reached for Alec’s arm, turning it to look more carefully at the wound.

“Demon injuries usually require a little magical TLC,” Magnus said. Before Alec could open his mouth to protest, Magnus had already placed a glowing blue hand over his forearm. The ache in Alec’s arm immediately vanished, and, with a few murmured words from Magnus, the cut sealed completely. Alec blinked, surprised to find that it didn’t even leave a scar.

Alec looked up at Magnus, who smiled at him before his knees buckled. Alec caught him, holding him up with an arm around his waist. Magnus’s hands fell on Alec’s shoulders, grasping weakly as he shook all over.

“If this is supposed to convince me that you’re _not_ magically exhausted, then you’re doing a bad job,” Alec said. “Does this happen _every_ time you cast a spell?”

“No, of course not,” Magnus said, struggling to support himself on quivering legs. “I’ve just been a bit careless lately. Letting my magic run lower than I should.”

“We’ll take a break,” Alec decided. “It’s still early, and we can make up the progress this afternoon before we make camp.”

Luke laughed, a deep sound that was one-part disbelieving, one-part amused.

“Oh, Magnus,” Luke said, elbowing him in the side, “Did you forget to tell Alec about _time zones_?”

Alec didn’t like the sound of that.

.o.O.o.

Magnus gave Alec a quick crash course in time zones, and by the end of it Alec was even more confused than he had been at the start. After answering several questions that didn’t make anything clearer, Magnus have up and dragged him to the firepit to wait for the meal that they called dinner but felt more like lunch.

Everyone was thrilled to see Magnus, embracing him and messing up his hair. He seemed to bask in the attention, switching between fox and human frequently and always, _always_ getting too close to people. At least, what Alec would judge as being _too close_. Magnus was always touching others, hugging them and brushing his hands against their arms. He _frequently_ greeted people by pressing their cheeks together and holding it there for a few unbearably long moments.

The wolves seemed just as liable to get physical with one another as Magnus was. Alec asked Maia about this, since she had taken the liberty of following him around as if expecting him to somehow cause trouble if left unattended, and she snorted a laugh.

“It’s how we declare connection and mark one another as part of the pack,” she said. “Plus, it allows us to share scents, which is important to werewolves,” she tapped the side of her nose. “The nose knows, after all.”

Alec frowned, watching Magnus ruffle the hair of a young teen. “But Magnus isn’t a werewolf.”

Maia gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Doesn’t matter. He’s family in all the ways that matter, even if he isn’t formally a member of the pack,” she side-eyed him. “Don’t nephilim forge any connections at all, other than that of blood?”

“Of course we do,” he said. “But nephilim are all about formalities.”

 _Some symbolic, some… more,_ Alec thought, hand drifting to rest on the _parabatai_ rune on his left hip. He concentrated on it, trying to feel across the bond for Jace, and found that it was muted. This made sense: the bond weakened with distance, and they were at least an ocean apart.

A cheer went up on the other side of the fire, pulling Alec away from his thoughts, and he turned to find Magnus pulling a huge bag of grain out of nothing and dropping it onto a pile of other such bags. Alec frowned, moving to stand and scold Magnus for the careless use of his magic, but was stopped by Maia’s arm.

“ _Relax_ , loverboy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t take any energy for him to pull things out of storage.”

Alec grimaced but didn’t push, even as Magnus pulled out several large sheets of fabric. He followed this with a huge haul of fresh produce, as ripe as if they had just fallen off the vine and into Magnus’s hand. Most of it wasn’t even _seasonal_. When he pulled out a basket of ice berries, a thin layer of frost still coating their skin, Alec was ready to explode with curiosity.

“How—,” he began, only to get interrupted by Magnus snapping his fingers.

“Ah, I’ve only just remembered. Maia!” Magnus ran to her side, grabbing Maia’s wrist and dragging her away from the fire. “I’ve brought you a horse!”

Alec half-expected Magnus to pull a horse from thin air, as he had the other gifts, but instead, he stopped in front of Alec’s horse, who had been tied to one of the shelters (though Alec didn’t doubt that it could pull the whole thing down with very little effort).

“Ta-dah!” Magnus said, gesturing at the horse that watched him with disinterest. “Your new horse!”

Alec sputtered.

“Wha—don't give my horse away without permission!”

Magnus turned to him, frowning.

“Oh, did I not tell you? The next few doorways will be taking us over terrain that a horse won't be able to pass through. It makes sense for us to leave the horse here, where it will be safe and cared for.”

Maia approached the horse carefully, offering her palm for it to sniff.

“He _is_ a lovely gelding,” she said as it nosed her palm. “Beautiful chestnut coat. What's his name?”

Alec had to think for a moment.

“Uh. Elly. I think it’s short for something.”

Magnus gave Alec an incredulous look.

“You _think_?”

“What?” he said defensively. “It’s not like he responds to his name when I say it, anyways.”

Magnus rolled his eyes but didn’t comment further. Maia made a cooing noise at the horse.

“Elly, huh?” she said, glancing at Alec. “I mean, you're not wrong about the name, per se. Horses speak in the language of tone, motion, and body language more than anything with words.”

Alec nodded, “Yes, exactly! He responds to whistles and clicks and shifting weight _way_ better than verbal commands. And—,” he said, whipping around to jab a finger at Magnus, “—he is _not for sale_.”

Magnus pouted. “I’m not _selling_ it. I’m just _giving it away_.”

“That is _not_ better!”

Maia laughed, stroking the horse’s snout.

“Come on, boys,” she said, “Don’t fight. How about you just _lend_ us the horse? I’ll take care of him until you get back, and then you can be on your way, horse and all.”

Alec scowled at Magnus, crossing his arms. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me this _before_ we went through the doorway. I could have easily left the horse with a nearby stable!”

Magnus looked confused. “But then, where would I find a horse to give to Maia?”

Alec threw his hands up in exasperation, even as Maia laughed hard enough that she bowed with the force of it.

.o.O.o.

It wasn’t until after sunset, when they were sitting around the fire eating a simple stew from carved wooden bowls, that Alec thought to ask about the _nephilim problem_ that Luke had mentioned.

Maia, who had been approaching a semblance of _friendly_ , immediately turned stone-faced.

“I mean, the nephilim have never been _great_ to us,” she said, jaw tensed. “But at least you never actively tried to eradicate us before,” she gestured at the people gathered around the fire. “See this? This is less than half of the size the pack was a year ago.”

Alec looked at her in horror. “They’ve been… _eradicating_ you? Nephilim have?”

Maia nodded, taking another bite of the stew.

“People started vanishing,” she said, eyes downcast. “Sometimes we would find their bodies in the forest by the village, but sometimes not. We started putting more and more safety measures in place; a guard rotation, making sure everyone was home well before dark, stuff like that. But people just kept disappearing, sometimes right out of their beds. And they always seemed to go for the youngest of us. We went to Magnus for help after a newborn disappeared.”

Alec swallowed, putting his spoon down.

“And… and you’re _sure_ it was nephilim?”

Maia nodded. “Yeah. We didn’t know at first, but near the end, when they could tell we were making a run for it, they stormed the village. Nephilim, sure as you are. Glowing weapons, black runes, plus they were entitled, obnoxious, rude as hell…”

“Ah,” Alec looked down, thinking of Jace.

“But they were also… odd,” she said, leaning back. “Some of them smelled bad. Abrasive, like lye when you’re making it into soap. And they all had a big rune in the same place on their necks,” she said, tapping the side of her neck. “It was circular.”

Alec cocked his head to the side. Circular? That was vague.

“Do you remember anything else about the rune?” he asked. “Extra lines or features? Did it overlap with anything?”

Maia sneered at him.

“How should I know? You people keep your knowledge of runes hidden away from the rest of us. It might as well be a foreign language.”

She was getting aggressive again, but Alec didn’t react, too busy trying to remember runes that were at least partially circular. The runes for s _oundlessness_ , _memory_ , e _ndurance_ , a _wareness_ , _creation_ , _prosperity_ , and _accuracy_ were all largely circular. It could even be the _wedded union_ rune, although Alec didn’t think that was very likely.

But maybe, what the rune _was_ didn’t matter.

“It’s telling that they all had the rune in the same place,” he said, half to himself, touching the _angelic power_ rune etched on the back of his hand, same as everyone else who served under High King Herondale and his Clave. “That’s a symbol of loyalty amongst nephilim. It tells others where their allegiance lies. Whatever these nephilim are doing, they’re doing it as a united force, and they want others to know it.”

Maia frowned.

“What, like a cult?” she asked.

Before Alec could answer, a howl cut through the air.

The werewolves reacted immediately, springing to action so quickly that more than a few bowls of stew were dashed across the ground. Their faces turned more wolf-like, making them hard for Alec to read.

He turned towards Maia to ask what was happening and froze when he saw her haunted expression.

“No,” she murmured, staring into the darkness with wide eyes. “No, that’s _impossible._ ”

A group of people, many sporting glowing green werewolf eyes, stood at the edge of the clearing, just outside the wards. They weren’t doing anything, not moving or speaking, simply standing there like dolls lined up in an orderly row. They stared at the group around the fire, faces blank.

Magnus stepped forward, gold eyes narrowed, and lifted a hand.

Before he could react, one pack member, apparently unable to contain herself, ran forward with werewolf speed. Alec caught a glimpse of the tears on her face, glinting in the firelight.

“Alaric!” she cried, arms raised as if to embrace him. “ _Alaric._ ”

The man at the centre of the line watched her, blank-eyed, until she came within arms reach. Then, he lifted a clawed hand and, with a quick slash, tore the woman’s throat open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shakes fist* Alaric, you bastard.
> 
> I will be gleefully ignoring canon as it suits me.
> 
> I don’t really know anything about horse riding. I’ve sat on one or two horses while they were led down a trail by another person, but it wasn’t very involved. So any wild inaccuracies will have to be forgiven >.>
> 
> I’m pretty sure most animals don’t know their names so much as hear a rhythm of noises said in a certain tone that peaks their attention. Some animals only respond to specific people saying their name, and even then, it can be limited to a certain intonation and syllable stress pattern (pronouncing Oscar as AWs-ker vs aws-KAR might not get the same reaction).
> 
> I spend a lot of time in various forests, because my dream is to one day become a Forest Person. All forests in this story (all biomes, really) are based on places I have been. I like plants, so if you’re ever like “this is a lot of description of plants” that is why. Feel free to skim over those parts. I will not be offended. I might be a little offended so just don’t tell me.
> 
> Also fun: symbolic meanings of plants!
> 
> Yellow acacia: secret love
> 
> Lily of the valley: sweetness; happiness returned
> 
> Yew: sorrow, death, and immortality
> 
> Fir: honesty and truth


	5. The Forsaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends are foes, foes are friends, and the silences are full of secrets.

**Chapter 5: The Forsaken**

" _I do not believe in ghosts_  
 _But they are haunting me_."  
\- Fred Babbin, "Ghosts"

The woman stood for a moment, mouth gaping as she tried to breathe through her ruined throat. A noise bubbled up, an attempt at words that came out as only a gasp as she took a faltering step back. Her collapse was like a tower in the wind, fighting the fall even as her knees shook, and for a moment it seemed as though she might stay standing. But then she crumbled in an unstoppable cascade, over-balancing as gravity became an insurmountable adversary.

She hit the ground hard, and there was a moment of shocked stillness.

The wolf with blood on his claws, Alaric, stepped forward, passing over the wards without a hint of resistance. A moment later, the others followed.

“ _Stop_.” Luke roared. His voice echoed with the weight of an alpha’s command, and Alec felt it ripple through the pack. The strange wolves, on the other hand, were unperturbed. They continued forward in their slow but unrelenting march.

“Shit,” Magnus hissed under his breath.

Panicked voices began to rise amongst the pack as they fell into a chaotic scramble of action. It seemed confused, but Alec spotted a few determined faces moving with purpose. Luke had already stepped forward with his fighters, the young and strong quickly moving between the approaching wolves and the rest of their pack.

Magnus moved as well, grabbing a young boy who seemed to be lost and shoving him into Maia’s arms. Maia took the child automatically, expression shell-shocked.

“Maia, snap out of it,” Magnus hissed, “We need you. You need to get the cubs _out of here_.”

Maia visibly hesitated, eyes still locked on the approaching wolves. “But…they’re—.”

“ _Now_ ,” Magnus growled, pushing her towards the firepit, where Alec could see the children from before huddling in wide-eyed fear in the arms of the few grey-haired wolves of the pack.

Maia lingered for a moment longer, her face a jumble of fear and uncertainty, before she turned and ran for the children, gathering them to her and growling quick instructions as she herded them urgently away.

One of the intruders seemed to notice the retreating children and, with a snarl, broke off from the others in a dead sprint. Alec saw the wolf's target in an instant: one of the children that was lagging behind. There were several pack members between the wolf and the child, but Alec could see the hesitation in their expressions.

 _They weren’t going to be quick enough_ , Alec realized. There wasn't time to summon his bow, but the wolf had to pass by him to get to the child, so he made a split-second decision.

The wolf was moving too fast for him to see clearly, a blur of motion, but with his runes quickening his thinking and his reflexes, Alec dove for where he predicted the wolf would pass him.

They collided, hitting the ground hard. The impact knocked the breath out of Alec’s lungs, but he quickly recovered and grappled the wolf. Alec’s strength rune flared against the wolf’s thrashing, and he grit his teeth against the strain.

He had fought a lone wolf once before, when she had been harassing a village in his kingdom. The rest of her pack had been killed in a quarrel with some vampires, and, all alone, she had gone mad under the influence of the full moon. The entire fight, she had fought like a rabid animal, snarling and snapping her teeth, eyes wild and hungry for blood.

This wolf was nothing like that. He appeared completely calm, even as he managed to flip them so that Alec was beneath him, straining against Alec’s grip on his wrists to try and wrack his claws down Alec’s face.

Over the wolf’s shoulder, Alec saw the flash of a branch, probably grabbed from the firewood pile, as it came down on the wolf’s head with a _smack._

The strike wasn’t hard enough to really _hurt_ the wolf, but it dislodged him enough for Alec to get a boot on his chest and kick him off, rolling to the side and drawing his seraph blade.

The little girl holding the branch was still standing far too close, frozen and wide-eyed. It was the same girl from that morning. The one he had saved from the ostei demon.

The wolf squared himself, attention fixed on Alec. But then his eyes slowly slid to the girl, and Alec knew what was coming. He moved the same moment the wolf did.

He swung his blade, cutting into the wolf’s arm, and then, as he recoiled, stabbed it through the heart.

The wolf didn’t make a sound. He just went limp, held up by where he was speared on the seraph blade. Alec braced his foot on the wolf’s chest and pulled his weapon free. The wolf fell uselessly to the ground.

Alec panted with exertion, reaching for the girl even as he looked around himself wildly. The camp was embroiled in battle now, Luke’s pack battling the intruders with bared fangs and slashing claws. It was a straight shot for the forest where Maia had disappeared with the other children, but there were enough of the strange wolves that he decided not to risk sending the girl on her own. He scooped her up, holding her against his chest with one arm, and ran. He kept his blade up, slashing at any wolves that got too close as he sprinted for the trees.

The girl, of course, immediately started struggling.

“Davey!” she cried, trying to push away from Alec’s hold as they reached the trees. “That was _Davey_!”

The name prickled something in Alec’s memory, but he didn’t slow, ducking under branches and trying to figure out which way Maia had gone with the other children. It didn’t seem like he was being followed, but he paused after rounding a particularly large boulder, worried that he would end up leading the wolves right to the kids.

The girl was still struggling in his arms, but she suddenly froze, head cocked to the side. A moment later, Alec heard the rustle of someone running through the underbrush, and he gripped the blade a little tighter.

Maia rounded the boulder, her face breaking out into relief. Alec lowered his blade

“Michelle!” Maia scolded, grabbing the girl from Alec. “I told you to _stay close to me_.”

Michelle was crying. “It was Davey,” she hiccupped, burying her teary face in Maia’s shoulder. “Maia, why did Davey attack us?”

Several things clicked into place Alec’s head.

Davey was one of the missing werewolves that Michelle had mentioned earlier that day, when she had thought Alec was going to kidnap her.

He remembered the way the woman had greeted the intruders, with relief. With _familiarity_. He had seen the pack’s hesitation to fight back, and how Luke had tried to order the strange wolves to stop. Alphas only had power over their own packs, so that wouldn’t make sense unless…

“The missing pack members,” Alec said. Maia glanced at him. “You’re being attacked by the missing members of your own pack.”

It seemed obvious now that he said it out loud, but everything had happened so _fast._ His head was still spinning.

Maia tightened her arms around Michelle.

“I’ll hide her with the others,” she said, nodding at Alec. “Thank you for getting her out of there.”

“No problem,” Alec said, summoning his bow to hand. “I need to get back to the fight.”

Maia still looked wary, but she made a noise of agreement and they turned and ran in opposite directions.

As he went, Alec used the opportunity to grab his stele and activate his _night vision_ rune and, on a whim, refresh his ever-present _accuracy_ and _clarity_ runes. Werewolves tended to fight in close quarters, and he would have to be quick and effective at telling friend from foe in the thick of battle.

He broke into the clearing just in time to see two werewolves collide, locked in battle. The clearing was a battlefield, the fighting mostly consisting of snarling werewolves fighting in ones and twos, slashing and biting. Magnus was nowhere to be seen.

Alec saw two enemy wolves attacking a single pack member, and, after a moment of hesitation, grabbed an _adamas_ -tipped arrow. He had silver-tipped arrows as well, but those would almost certainly kill any werewolf he hit. Adamas would just hurt like hell.

The first arrow sunk into one of the wolve’s sides. She didn’t seem to notice, but the second and third hit her shoulders, which limited her movement enough to give the pack member a slight advantage. Alec fired an adamas arrow at the other werewolf, this time aiming for the knee. It hit dead-on, and the werewolf wavered long enough for the pack member to shove him back and regain some ground.

Alec tried to keep aware of the entire battlefield, firing arrows where he could see pack members needing support and keeping an eye out for Magnus. People were fighting all around him, and, to his left, one of Luke’s wolves had just fallen with a shriek of agony. Alec spun around, arrow ready, and froze.

One of the mad wolves was a kid.

Or, perhaps more accurately, a young teenager. Alec would guess they were perhaps thirteen, with the long limbs and round face of being halfway through a growth spurt. And they were just as blank-eyed as the other intruders, claws wet with blood. Someone’s attack had torn their shirt open, revealing the skin of their chest.

Through the ragged flaps of fabric, Alec spotted the stark black lines of a rune.

There was a flash of blue light, and the child was suddenly wrapped from chin to toe in a thick length of rope, which had been tied in a cheerful bow at their chest. Their expression didn’t change, even as they lost their balance and fell to the ground, and they didn’t react at all except struggling to get free.

Alec looked around and saw several other wolves falling, similarly restrained, and finally spotted Magnus.

He was on his knees in the midst of the battle, barely holding himself up with one arm on the ground and the other extended towards Alec. He was shaking, eyes squeezed shut as his lips moved in a silent spell. Behind Magnus, a figure loomed.

For an instant, Alec thought that it was another werewolf, if an odd one, but he quickly realized that it was a seelie girl, with greenish-grey skin and a crown of twigs encircling her head. Her eyes glinted like glass beads set into her head, round and unblinking, and she was naked, save for the leaves that seemed to grow directly from her skin. When she opened her arms wide, the rune on her chest was barred.

Alec shot an arrow at her. She brushed it away casually, as if it were nothing more than a troublesome insect.

“Magnus!” Alec yelled, running towards them. Magnus blinked, hand faltering before the seelie grabbed a handful of his hair, hauling him up. Magnus cried out.

Alec shot another arrow, but the seelie just caught it out of the air. She dropped it and made a casual gesture in Alec’s direction, forcing him to brace as a wave of green magic washed over him, pushing him back.

Magnus struggled weakly as the seelie raised her hand above her head as if she were about to throw a ball, the skin of her chest pulling the rune taught.

Alec’s eyes fixed on it. He grabbed two arrows.

The seelie caught the first easily. She wasn’t expecting the second arrow a moment later. It hit the rune, dead-on, and exploded on impact into a splash of flames.

The seelie shrieked as the fire caught on her leaves, dropping Magnus and desperately trying to swipe away the flames. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Alec took a running jump, landing a hard kick on the seelie’s chest that sent her stumbling back. She tripped over something and collapsed, curling around her burning chest in a sobbing heap. The flames blazed on.

“Wha—?” she started, eyes clearing. There was a flash of green magic and the fire vanished, though the burns on her chest remained. A large portion of the rune, including the chthonic writing, had been burned away.

Alec didn’t have a moment to spare for her. He ran toward Magnus, who had an enemy wolf converging on his unmoving body.

Alec swung his bow with one hand as he pulled his seraph blade free with the other. The bow smacked the wolf in the face while the blade cut into his arm. The wolf stumbled back, hand reflexively going to the wound.

“Magnus!” Alec shouted, kicking the werewolf in the gut and forcing him stumbling back a few steps. “ _Magnus_!”

Magnus raised his head from the ground, face pale and entire body trembling with fatigue.

“Alexander?” he said, eyes unfocused.

Alec fired another arrow, striking the wolf in the knee, but again it did little to slow him down. One of the pack members appeared, tackling the mad wolf to the ground. They rolled across the earth in a snarling mass of teeth and claws.

Alec used the opportunity to finally reach Magnus. The seelie watched with wide eyes as Alec tried to help Magnus up, pulling him away from her and the rest of the battle. Magnus wasn’t cooperating, his whole body going limp as Alec tried to encourage him onto his feet.

“Magnus,” he said, teeth gritted in effort. “Come _on,_ you need to get out of here.”

“They need me,” Magnus said, staring at the chaos around them. “They _need_ me.”

Alec considered throwing Magnus over his shoulder and _carrying_ him out of the battle, but he didn’t think he could fend off any attacks like that. He looked around wildly for something, _anything_ , and his eyes landed on one of the green-wood huts, only a short distance away. He grabbed Magnus under his armpits and dragged him, pulling him around the back of the shelter. Once they had a semblance of cover from the battle, Alec finally kneeled at Magnus’s side, allowing him to lean back into his chest for support. Magnus’s head lolled, eyelids fluttering with exhaustion.

“They _need_ me,” Magnus moaned. “But I _can’t_. I—I don’t have anything _left_. I _can’t._ ”

“What do you need?” Alec asked desperately, flinching at the sound of a wolf shrieking in pain. “Magnus, _what can I do_?”

Magnus looked up at him, his slit-pupiled eyes focusing for an instant. Alec watched him hesitate, fear and hopelessness clouding his face.

Another pair of wolves collided in battle a few feet away from them.

Magnus’s face hardened with resolve. He held out his hand.

“I need your strength,” he croaked. His fingers were trembling. “I— _please._ ”

Alec grabbed the offered hand.

“Take what you need,” Alec said, squeezing his fingers. “ _Take whatever you need_.”

Magnus gazed at him for a moment, his face melting into desperate relief.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he murmured and then, pressing himself against Alec as if bracing himself for impact, raised his hand. A tingle started in Alec’s elbow crease and trickled down his forearm, leading to where Magnus’s skin met his. It didn’t feel like a loss of energy, exactly. More like a loss of _warmth_ , gooseflesh rising up along his arm.

Magic, pale blue and fluid, appeared at Magnus’s fingertips, and with a grunt of effort, he shoved it forward. It burst from him, radiating outwards like a wave, and more of the intruding wolves fell to the ground, bound tightly in cocoons of restraints. Alec listened to the _thumps_ of them hitting the ground as, one by one, they fell, until all were immobilized.

There was a moment of confusion as the pack realized what had happened. Alec half-expected a cry of victory to rise up, but instead the silence persisted.

It was only broken when one man fell to his knees beside a body and began to sob.

Magnus released Alec’s hand with a gasp of effort. There was a flash of blue light, and Alec looked down to see a red fox crumpled and shivering on the ground. He could see the fox’s ribcage rise and fall with unsteady breath.

 _We did it_ , Alec thought desperately, sliding his hands under Magnus’s unconscious form and tucked him against his chest. _It’s over._

He pressed a palm to Magnus’s ribcage and felt the quick flutter of his heartbeat. HeHe was cold to the touch.

The man continued to sob.

.o.O.o.

Ameles sat at the base of the grandfather tree, head tipped back and antennae waving listlessly as she waited. The dark of night was growing deeper, and she was starting to think that none had survived the attack when a rustle of leaves made her turn her head.

A werewolf, with hollow cheeks and a limping gait, appeared through the trees. He was soundless by design, but not even and the rune on his chest could stop the leaves from moving as he passed.

Ameles straightened up, the palps around her mouth fluttering in anticipation.

The wolf shambled up to her, and when he was within reach, she struck. Her arms, which folded into the spiked, raptorial limbs of a praying mantis, snapped shut around him, his neck caught between their jagged teeth like a mouse in a trap.

He didn’t scream as she began to eat.

A minute later, she dropped his body, a mess of pink brain matter in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, flicking the blood-stained, silver-grey hair from her face.

“Huh,” she said as she watched the battle unfold from the wolf’s memories. The fox was inconvenient, as was the nephilim archer, but that didn’t matter much. The test had served its purpose: they now knew the rune worked, even against the power of a werewolf’s alpha.

It was time to move to the next phase.

.o.O.o.

“What the _fuck_ is this?” Maia asked, dumping one of the dead wolves in front of where Alec sat, Magnus still cradled in his lap. The rune on the wolf's chest was starkly black, even in death.

Alec’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Maia snapped. “It’s one of _your_ people’s runes, isn’t it? _What is it_?”

“I don’t know,” Alec said, louder. “That’s not a rune in the Grey Book. I don’t know what it is or what it does.”

Maia looked like she wanted to argue more, but her eyes flicked to Magnus, who was making small noises in his sleep. Her face did something complicated, and she turned away with a scoff.

Alec released his breath, sagging slightly against the tree. He was mostly telling the truth: he _didn't_ know what the rune was. He had never even seen a rune like it. Except, that is, for the one on his sister.

But even then, it wasn’t _exactly_ the same; this new rune still had a half-circle as a base and a scrawl of chthonic at its centre, but there were extra lines and swirls around the edge, including a few crescent moons that Alec assumed were specific to werewolves. What was it Ragnor had said about the rune on his sister? _Experimental_. Alec supposed this is what the finished product looked like.

But he didn’t know how to explain that to Maia, or to Luke, or to the rest of the pack. They were already looking at him with suspicion, and Alec knew for a fact that most of them weren’t happy that he was still carrying Magnus like a child clutching a beloved doll. He suspected the only reason he hadn’t been forcibly taken from him was Luke’s stern looks, but Luke hardly seemed pleased about it either.

The captured wolves had been restrained near the treeline, downwind from the pack’s sensitive noses, the seelie among them. She clearly had more awareness than the others that were marked with the demonic runes, but she had still obediently held out her hands to be bound, eyes watchful and unblinking as the rope was looped around her wrists as she answered questions with detached _yes_ es and _no_ es.

Alec guessed that destroying the rune had freed her from its influence, and he considered doing the same to the marked wolves but quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way of knowing if damaging the rune would cause more harm than good. It may very well have been dumb luck alone that the seelie hadn’t been killed when the rune was destroyed.

The wounded were tended to and the dead were laid out in rows, though those bearing the cursed rune were kept separate, even in death. Alec sat amidst it all, the lone stranger, looked upon with suspicion.

Alec curled his fingers in Magnus’s fur. _Wake up_. He thought. _Please, wake up._

Magnus did not wake up.

.o.O.o.

That night, Alec laid awake, even as the last of the werewolves skulked to bed as the night deepened into the witching hour. The incorrect timing of the day was disorienting for Alec, and he still felt as though it were late afternoon.

He had ended up sitting with his back to a scraggly mountain tree, Magnus nestled in the hollow of his crossed legs. He spent much of the night looking up at the stars with a fresh _night vision_ rune scrawled on the inside of his elbow. In addition to allowing Alec to keep a careful eye on his surroundings, the rune made the sky explode with light, previously invisible stars peeking out from the darkness and making it seem over-full. They were beautiful, and numerous, and completely different from home. He didn’t recognize any of the constellations, and Alec wasn’t sure what that meant.

Magnus made a small noise in his sleep, and Alec smoothed his hand down his back, shushing him gently.

A voice sounded from Alec’s left.

“Hm.”

Alec had his blade out in an instant, pointing it at the intruder as he protectively hunched over Magnus’s sleeping form.

It was the seelie who he’d burned. She was standing a few meters away, watching them both with eyes that glowed green in the dark.

Alec glanced over at where the marked wolves were still restrained, guarded by several members of the pack. “How did you—.”

The seelie flicked her fingers dismissively. “Rope interwoven with wolfsbane is excellent for restraining werewolves. Fae, on the other hand…” she trailed off with a shrug.

Alec hadn’t gotten a good look at the seelie since the battle, having avoided her sharp gaze and strange speech for the entirety of the evening. He saw now that she had a crown of twigs growing straight out of her head, pointed ears that poked out of her tangle of brown hair, and pale green skin that was underlaid with a spiderweb of black lines. The burn was prominent on her chest, though the edges of the rune still poked out around the edges.

The seelie opened her mouth, but instead of words, a single note rang out, as clear as ringing a bell.

Alec tensed, watchful for a magical attack, but nothing happened for a long moment. Slowly, he became aware of a quiet noise, like the hiss of wind through grass. The seelie crouched down and scooped up something from the ground.

It was a snake.

It was small, shorter than the length of Alec’s forearm, and its scales were black with three pale stripes going down its length. The centre stripe was red and the lateral two yellow. It slumped contentedly in the seelie’s loose grip as she placed it on her head, immediately weaving itself into her crown of twigs and resting its head just above her hairline. The seelie reached back down and picked up two more snakes, these ones twisting around her arms like bracelets.

The set of the seelie’s shoulders immediately relaxed, and she brought one of her wrists to her mouth to whisper to her new companion.

As Alec watched, one of the other snakes uncoiled slightly and offered her a narrow, silvery leaf that it was holding in its mouth. The seelie accepted the leaf from the snake, thanking it quietly, and moved towards Alec. He tensed, lifting his blade a hair. The seelie paused, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to help you, boy,” she said, holding up the leaf. “You freed me from the influence of the demonic rune. _One kind deed deserves another_. As repayment, I will heal your fox.”

Alec hesitated, remembering a page from the _panaceas_ book.

“The herb of the snakes can’t help with magical exhaustion,” he said, hand moving to cradle Magnus’s head. “It’s only effective against physical injuries.”

The seelie let out a surprised laugh.

“A well-read nephilim!” she grinned, handing the leaf back to her snake companion. “How unusual. You are correct: the herb cannot break any curses or heal magical exhaustion. However, the snakes know all the secrets of the bodies of all creatures, magical and not, and that wisdom is shared with the Serpari, and so _I_ happen to be quite able to help with the fox’s ailment.”

Alec stared at her, trying to figure out if she was trying to mislead him or not. Generally, the safe bet was to assume that any fae was _always_ misleading you. But they also could not lie, and Alec knew they were very particular about repaying debts.

And… Magnus was still cold against his chest.

“You won’t hurt him?” Alec asked, lowering his blade slightly.

The seelie inclined her head. “Magnus Bane will not be harmed on this night. You have my word.”

Alec hesitated, then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, sheathing his blade. “Help him.”

The seelie grinned, moving forward with her arms outstretched. The snakes on her wrists unwound, dripping to the ground like dark ropes, and made a beeline Magnus’s unconscious form.

The snakes paused at Alec’s legs, staring at him with their unblinking eyes for a long moment, before slithering over him to reach Magnus. Their skin was smoother and colder than glass, and he could feel the flex and pull of their muscles as they moved. Alec watched, wide-eyed, as one immediately began to coil around Magnus’s neck, the other around the length of Magnus’s forelimb, tongues flickering wildly. His red fur poked out between the coils.

The seelie moved forward, watching the snakes intently and nodding as if agreeing with something. She snapped her fingers, a small orb of green-gold light appearing at the end of her thumb, and leaned forward, pressing the magic into Magnus’s forehead.

Magnus shuddered, his entire body twitching, and, with a flash of blue light, Alec suddenly found himself with his arms full of _fully-grown-man_.

Magnus blinked, his golden eyes confused as he looked up at Alec.

“What—,” he said, reaching up as if to touch Alec’s face, only to stop short when he saw the snake coiled around his arm. “Oh,” he said, touching his neck, where the other snake was still wrapped around his throat like a scaley choker. He glanced up at the seelie. “ _Oh._ Hello, Racha.”

Racha sniffed disdainfully.

“Magnus,” she greeted, the curl of her lip speaking of an unfriendly acquaintanceship. She looked at Alec. “I consider my debt to be paid in full.”

Magnus was stroking the head of the snake around his neck, his face becoming unabashedly delighted.

“And hello to _you_ , little baby,” he cooed at the reptile. The snake showed no reaction to being stroked like a cat, but it also didn’t move away from his touch. Magnus was murmuring to it about how pretty it was, and Alec worried for a moment if Magnus was delirious. Racha seemed annoyed.

“Gi’né, Nath,” she snapped, holding out an arm. “To me.”

With an air that seemed almost _disappointed,_ the snakes slithered down from Magnus and dropped to the ground.

Magnus hooked an arm around Alec, resting his hand on the nape of Alec’s neck as the snakes returned to Racha’s wrists. Racha kissed the top of each of the snakes’ heads in turn, giving Alec a smile that wasn’t quite warm before turning her gaze on Magnus.

“You really _must_ share how you managed to find a pet nephilim, fox,” she said, tilting her head. “Especially one who is _so_ well-trained.”

Alec bristled, but Magnus’s hand tightened on the back of his neck. _Wait._

“Oh, Alexander is less of a pet and more of a companion,” he said, voice lighter than the tension in his hands belied.

Racha’s smile widened.

“Well, at any rate,” she said, “He seems to be… acceptable. For a nephilim, that is.”

Alec scowled at her, but Magnus just breathed a laugh, so soft that Alec barely heard it, and reached up to run the back of his fingers along his jawline. Alec’s scowl melted, and Magnus smirked.

“I’ve been finding him to be _quite_ decent,” Magnus said, purring the words in a way that implied things that had Alec’s cheeks warming. Alec glanced at Magnus, wide-eyed. Magnus smiled tightly, his eyes silently urging him to _play along_.

Racha laughed, a high, tinkling sound that sounded far from genuine.

“Well, he _did_ fight for the sake of a group of downworlders,” she said, sizing up Alec like he was a piece of furniture for sale, “But I suppose stranger things have been done by people, even nephilim, when they’re in love.”

“I—,” Alec stuttered out, a denial on his tongue, when the hand on his neck squeezed, cutting his words short. When he looked over at Magnus, his face was tense, even with a smile firmly in place.

“Indeed,” Magnus said, “Although I suppose love is its own sort of selfishness.”

For some reason, Racha found this absolutely hilarious. She threw her head back and cackled, smile spreading a _little_ too wide, just enough that it was unnerving.

“Oh, Magnus,” she said, reaching up and accepting another leaf from the snake on her head. “You never change, do you? You and your _distractions._ ”

Magnus’s hand didn’t loosen as Racha turned her arm, revealing a mess of bruises and scabs on the inside of her elbow. She ran the leaf up the length of her arm and the injuries wiped away like paint, the black webbing under her skin fading until it disappeared altogether. Racha sighed in relief.

“Your absence in the court has been noticed,” Racha said, pressing the leaf to the burn wound on her chest. “The Seelie Queen is tolerant of your wanderings, but—.”

Her voice cut off, mouth hanging open. The leaf drifted to the ground as she stood, frozen.

The snakes suddenly launched into motion, rapidly unwinding themselves from Racha and falling to the ground to flee for the trees. The one that had been on her head paused only long enough to snatch up the fallen leaf before following its companions.

Alec looked at Racha’s chest.

Normally, when the skin bearing a rune was destroyed, the healed skin grew back unmarked. But as Alec watched, the burn receded, revealing more and more of the demonic rune, whole and undamaged.

Racha stood, her mouth working in a silent screech. Her face crumpled.

Magnus jumped from Alec’s arms, scrambling to his feet with a hand outstretched.

“ _Racha_!” he said, just as Racha lunged forward with her fingers curled like claws. Magnus flinched back. Before she could reach him, however, she collided with something. Alec thought that she must have been blocked by Magnus’s magic, but then Racha’s face twitched for a moment in quiet outrage, hands shaking.

“ _Magnus Bane will not be harmed on this night_ ,” she hissed, echoing the promise she had made Alec just a few minutes ago. Magnus opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a sound like wood splintering, and Racha was gone in a flash of light.

Magnus whirled around, eyes searching.

“Shit,” he said, hands glowing. “Racha?! _Shit_!”

.o.O.o.

Magnus spent the next hour or so tending to the sleeping, injured wolves, yanking at his hair and muttering under his breath in various languages between healing spells. Alec sat back against his tree, keeping an eye on him, but he didn’t try to interfere.

Despite what had happened with Racha, Alec mostly felt relieved. Magnus’s face now had a healthy flush of blood, his hands were no longer trembling, and his steps never faltered. Whatever she had done to Magnus before the rune overtook her again, it had clearly healed his magical exhaustion, and for the first time since the battle, Alec felt like he could _breathe._

When Magnus finally _did_ calm down, the sun was just peeking above the eastern mountains, and the camp was beginning to rouse. Most of the werewolves slept in, covering their faces with arms and clothes to hide from the light, but a few got up with the sun, Luke among them. Magnus immediately went to speak with him.

A few minutes later, Magnus got to work. Alec watched sleepily as Magnus went about strengthening the existing wards around the camp, layering them with new protections, in case more runed intruders appeared, and the diverted awareness glamour he had spoken about to keep away the mundanes.

Alec was nearly asleep when Magnus approached the restrained wolves. They watched Magnus with blank eyes as he waved his hand over them and, in a blink, vanished them without a trace. _That_ woke Alec up.

Luke had also been concerned.

“Are you sure they’ll be ok?” he frowned at the bare stretch of ground. “Even if they’re cursed, they’re still _pack_.”

“I’m sure,” Magnus said, squeezing Luke’s shoulder. “I put them into one of my _momentosus_ dimensions. We could leave them there for a year, and when I took them out, they’d have only experienced a single day.”

Time-warped dimensions? Alec supposed that was how he had transported all the fresh produce yesterday. Luke sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I know you said to expect something like this,” Luke said, “After what happened with the seelies. But a part of me thought… a part of me _hoped_ that the seelies were only vulnerable because of their angelic blood.”

“I know,” Magnus bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Lucian.”

Luke stooped to gently bump his forehead against Magnus’s, a gesture Alec had often seen the pack members exchange, before turning to return to the others. Magnus didn’t follow.

Alec cleared his throat. “What happened to the seelies?”

Magnus looked at him over his shoulder, smiling sadly.

“They were the first downworlders to start vanishing, years ago,” he sat down next to Alec, picking up a loose pebble from the ground and fiddling with it distractedly. “But the seelie are a secretive people. Private. It wasn’t made known to the rest of the downworld that something was wrong until a nephilim was interrupted halfway through drawing a rune on a half-dead seelie’s chest. When werewolves started disappearing in a similar fashion, I made the connection.”

Alec watched the rock in Magnus’s fingers, rotating in a soothing rhythm.

“So then,” Alec said, his throat tight, “you _have_ seen a rune like the one on my sister before.”

Magnus’s fingers stilled for a moment. “Not exactly. I’d never seen one on a nephilim before. Only on seelies,” he glanced at where the prisoners had been, “and now on werewolves. But I admit that I noticed the similarities.”

“And? Do you know if the Golden Bird will really help against these runes?”

Magnus twirled the stone. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I hope it will, but there’s still a lot I don’t know.”

“But you knew more than you let on,” Alec said. “Before, I mean.”

Magnus sighed, putting the rock aside. “Yes. I needed to be sure that you weren’t one of them. At this point, I think you’ve proven yourself,” he said, nodding towards the dead wolves.

“You thought _I_ would meddle with demonic runes?” Alec asked, finally looking up from watching Magnus’s hands. “I wouldn’t hurt my own _sister_.”

“I know that now,” Magnus’s eyes were downcast. “But I’ve been told that I’m too quick to trust, so I waited, just to be sure.”

“And now you’re sure?”

Magnus lifted his head, pinning Alec with his slit-pupiled gaze. “Now I’m sure.”

With some difficulty, Alec tore his eyes away. He picked up his own rock, running his thumb along a smooth side, back and forth.

Alec didn’t _feel_ like he had earned that sort of trust. Magnus had no way of knowing if it hadn’t been _Alec_ who had led the marked wolves through the doorway, or that the battle hadn’t been some sort of elaborate ruse. He wondered about the person Magnus wrote the _Panaceas_ book for, the one beyond help, and if they were one of the seelies who had been taken.

“There’s more that you’re keeping from me,” Alec said, a statement of fact rather than a question.

“Yes,” Magnus agreed. “Can you live with that?”

Alec’s fingers tightened around the stone.

“Will the secrets hurt me or my sister? Or prevent us from getting the bird?”

“No,” Magnus said, certain.

Alec closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said.

Magnus touched Alec’s knee.

“Okay,” he echoed, smiling sadly.

.o.O.o.

Magnus advised him not to let his sleep cycle shift too much in their travels, since the Red King’s domain was in the same time zone as the Kingdom of York, and Alec ended up falling asleep not long after sunrise.

When he woke, it was noon, and Magnus had changed clothes. He was now dressed in a loose burgundy tunic that had black and yellow patterns woven into it, the fabric cinched at the waist with a blue chord that matched the blue scarf draped over his shoulders. He seemed to be wrapping up a few things with the pack, and he had already packed their things.

“Come on,” he said, tucking the last of Alec’s gear into a pocket dimension, “Let’s say our goodbyes and head out. We’ll stop for breakfast on the way.”

Maia and Michelle were still glaring at Alec with acute suspicion, so Alec busied himself with stroking his horse’s neck while Magnus hugged what seemed like every single pack member. The horse seemed unreasonably pleased to be free of its saddle, munching away on the veritable mountain of hay Magnus had summoned for the beast.

Alec pretended not to hear Magnus’s goodbyes, but it was hard to ignore the gaggle of children that were loudly begging for Magnus not to leave. Magnus reassured them that he would be back and Luke huffed a laugh, clapping Magnus’s shoulder lightly. 

“You know you’re always welcome to stay here,” he said. “You don’t need to always run off on your own.”

Magnus smiled sadly.

“Don’t I?”

Then he knelt down to hug the children, and they all piled onto him at once. Magnus let himself be tipped over, his melodramatic cry drowned out by the children’s laughter, and was only released when Luke chased the youngsters off, still laughing, with a low alpha growl.

Alec hid his smile in the side of his horse’s neck.

.o.O.o.

They were walking uphill for an hour or so, often being forced to scramble up sheer rock faces that no horse could _dream_ of surmounting, when Magnus stopped on a ledge, turning to look outwards with his hands on his hips.

“Here,” he decided, nodding as Alec caught up with him, “We’ll eat here.”

Alec turned to see what Magnus was looking at and froze.

Magnus bumped their shoulders together. “Nice, isn’t it?”

 _Nice_ was an understatement. The view looked out over snow-capped mountains that extended out into the haze of distance, as far as Alec could see. The valleys were softened by the green of vegetation, but the peaks cut through the horizon like jagged knives of stone raking against the endless blue sky.

Everything was enormous. Everything was small. Alec felt like he could step off the stone ledge and take flight.

The breath left his lungs, and he still hadn’t quite gotten it back when he was handed an apple and a piece of salted pork. Magnus sat down on the ledge, swinging his legs over the sheer drop as he took a bite out of his own apple.

After a moment, Alec joined him.

A few minutes later, Alec had finally gathered enough courage to clear his throat and turn to Magnus.

“Back at the werewolf camp,” he said. Magnus glanced at him to show he was listening before taking another bite from the apple, “Why did you imply to Racha that we were… _together_?”

He had meant to say, _‘in love,_ ’ but found he couldn’t spit out the words. Magnus didn’t acknowledge his hesitation.

“She’s a seelie,” he said, shrugging. “Their type love collecting pretty people to bring back to their court, where they play mind games with them for a century or two. I could tell she was feeling you out as a mark.”

“She was _what?!_ ” Alec sputtered, horrified. “ _Me?_ ”

Magnus made a dismissive noise.

“I don’t think she would have acted on it, with the rune business and all, but to be safe I implied that I had a claim on you, which would make you out-of-bounds,” he rolled his eyes heavens-ward, as if asking the angel for strength. “ _Seelies,_ honestly. They have no respect for a person’s autonomy.”

Alec wondered why he said it that way, as if he were separate from them. He supposed that not all of the Fair Folk were members of the Seelie Court. According to one of the maids who used to tell Alec stories as a child, foxes learned to speak after living for one hundred years, and each year after that, their magic and their wisdom grew until, eventually, they joined one of the Courts.

Perhaps Magnus wasn’t _strictly_ a fae, the way Racha was, or perhaps he was young for a fox and hadn’t yet gained enough magic for him to need to state his allegiances. AlthoughAlthough that was a little hard to believe. Alec had seen Magnus’s magic, and it was _substantial._

Magnus handed him the waterskin, and Alec accepted it gratefully, taking a deep drink. He sighed when he finished, leaning back to enjoy the view as they finished their breakfast.

Their silence stretched out, full of secrets.

 _All well_ , Alec thought, watching the breeze stir Magnus’s dark hair, _at least the view is nice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec has spent a long time living with his secrets. He’s willing to let Magnus have a few of his own.  
> Gay culture is waiting until you're 100% positive that the super-hearing werewolves can't overhear you before talking about That Gay Shit.  
> Notes, in no particular order:  
> \- I’m kind of in the peripheral of the Teen Wolf fandom (I’ll say it: the teen wolf fandom has a GREAT fanfic community), so a lot of this had me sitting there like “do shadowhunters use wolfsbane? Is mountain ash an anti-werewolf thing in this canon? What are rules?????”. But then I remembered: I CAN DO WHAT I WANT >:D  
> \- The Serpari are a real group of people whose name is usually translated as “the Snake Catchers” who exist in the Italian region of Abruzzo. In a country where snakes are largely feared as servants of the devil (at least in more Southern regions), Serpari capture non-venomous snakes and bring them, alive and well, to their village for the “Festival of the snake-catchers” in early May to celebrate the snake as a symbol of immortality, rejuvenation, and healing. In modern times, this ritual is associated with St. Dominic, but it is widely believed to have roots predating Christianity, and indeed even predating the Roman Empire.  
> My nonna speaks of the Serpari with a tone of suspicion, as she does not trust their closeness with snakes, but I have always found them fascinating. She is the sort of person who keeps garlic over her door to ward off evil. My nonno, who was always a kind soul, spoke of them with respect. He was the sort of person who planted his garden under the light of the first full moon of May to help it grow.  
> \- I’ve decided this isn’t set on this universe’s earth because I WILL be using time zones without any regard for geographic accuracy and I will justify it by saying the geography is completely different because, again, I DO WHAT I WANT.  
> The next chapter is the bit that I skipped writing a first draft for, so there may be a delay. I’ll try to get it done, but I have written… basically none of it >.> The outline has a lot of question marks. I don’t know if anyone else feels this, but the middle of the story is the HARDEST to write. Anyways, just a warning.


	6. The Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus spend some time at the beach. Like any good beach episode, this includes sexual tension, frolicking, sharing of feelings, sexual tension, and emotions. 
> 
> 'Magnus often wore a particular grin, like he could cut you with his words alone and _knew_ it, but today he seemed kinder, like the sort of person who might play with werewolf children and heal the wounds of a near-stranger despite being dangerously low on magic.  
> Today, his smile was a quiet statement of contentment.  
> Alec felt the sudden urge to taste that statement.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look a completely predictable delay! I want everyone to know that I JUST wrote this entire thing. Mostly. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the middle is the HARDEST part of a story to write.  
> On the bright side, this is just. ALL fluff. Mostly.
> 
> Other excuses I will be making include: work got busier, I had three (3!) birthdays to do remote parties for, this is over 10’000 words, and I was kissed by a witch who cursed me to always be late. (before you ask, yeah the witch was hella cute)

**Chapter 6: The Unspoken**

_“Luminous mind, bright devil_   
_of absolute clusterings, of upright noon---:_   
_here we are at last, alone, without loneliness,_   
_far from the savage city's delirium.”_

_–_ Pablo Neruda “Luminous mind, bright devil”

Alec and Magnus climbed the mountain pass and then began down the other side into a treeless valley. They were walking along a narrow switchback path, the mountain steep on either side of them, when Magnus grabbed Alec’s shoulder.

“There it is!” he said, pointing down the slope.

Alec looked, but all he could see were the woody shrubs that grew on either side of the path, the ground too rocky and the incline too steep for any but the most stubborn of weeds to grow. There were a few bare patches, exposing swaths of dark bedrock that not even lichen seemed to favour, but there was nothing obviously strange that Alec thought might hide a doorway.

“Where?” Alec asked, bending down slightly to try and see things from Magnus’s height.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Magnus pointed more insistently. Alec squinted.

“…Not really.”

“Oh, for the love of- the _giant hole in the ground_.”

With a start, Alec realized that one of the bare patches wasn’t black bedrock as he had thought, but rather a huge hole in the side of the mountain. Alec recoiled slightly and, upon glancing around, realized that the mountainside was riddled with such pits.

Magnus kneeled at the edge of the closest hole, which was bigger and rounder than the others, and scratched at the side of it. Something chipped off into his hand.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Alec, who accepted it without thinking. It was a rock, pitch black and with glassy, smooth sides that met along edges as sharp as blades. He ran his thumb over the flat side, feeling the shiny finish interrupted by concentric rings that resembled the growth lines of a seashell.

“Obsidian,” Magnus explained, gathering a few more. “This mountain was a volcano, a long time ago. It left behind this glass for us to remember it by.”

Alec ‘ _hmmed’_ in interest and pocketed the stone. He looked down the pit, grabbing a shrub to anchor himself before leaning forward to get a better look. It wasn’t as deep as he’d first thought; he could actually see the bottom about ten meters down. But the stone of the cave was so dark that it swallowed up all available light, leaving the opening a dark mouth shouting towards the sky.

“And the holes?” Alec asked. “What left them?”

Magnus stood up, dusting off his hands.

“There are tunnels deep in these mountains, where liquid fire once flowed. Most of them are beneath leagues of stone, but _this_ part of the mountain happened to be made of something softer than the rest. Every time it rained, a little more of the softer stone was washed away, until they finally reached the obsidian-lined lava tubes. After that, all it took was a point of impact and these openings were created,” he waved a hand at the scattering of holes. “The obsidian doesn’t wash away as easily, so it has remained, even as the rain continues to carve the tunnels still deeper. I imagine there must be more tunnels beneath than can be explored in a million lifetimes.”

“Hm,” Alec said. “So, the doorway opens on the wall of the tunnel?”

“Nope!” Magnus said cheerfully, flicking his wrist. “It’s about… two meters down from the opening.”

The doorway appeared in a swirl of white and gold and, before Alec could protest, Magnus had already grabbed his arm and jumped, dragging Alec over the edge with him. Alec barely had time to yelp before he was swallowed up by the swirling lights and colours.

.o.O.o.

The doorway let them out somewhere that was darker than obsidian and colder than a winter night in the hills. The chilled air hit Alec from the darkness like a physical blow, and he was completely blind when he struck solid ground, which had a slight incline. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell backwards, arms windmilling.

He turned as he fell, angling himself to hit the ground on a slight angle so that the shock of impact went towards his forward momentum instead of causing injury. Unfortunately, this had the undesirable consequence of sending him sliding down the incline at high speed. He reached out, trying to grab something out of the dark to stop himself, but his fingers just scrabbled uselessly against what felt like wet glass, failing to find a handhold as he slid.

He was picking up speed, and he had time to imagine the incline leading to an endless pit, throwing him off into dark nothingness, before his feet landed on flat ground with a jolt. It was the same sort of abrupt stop that came when descending the stairs in the dark, only to discover that there’s one less step than you’d thought.

Alec stood for a moment, his heart racing as his brain scrambled to realign the expected fall with the experienced reality of stable ground. His knees shook, and he eased himself to the ground, sliding on his back down the incline until he was sitting. His ass felt like it was resting in a cold puddle of water.

There was a rustle of movement from above him.

“Sorry!” Magnus’s voice called out, “Sorry, I should have warned you. I honestly forgot that that was there.”

Alec still hadn’t found his voice when, with a whispered spell, a soft red light appeared. He blinked hard against the sudden illumination, and then he stared.

They were in a cave cut from diamond.

At least, that’s what it _looked_ like. The walls played with Magnus’s crimson light as a crystal would, reflecting, bending, and holding the brightness in such a way that the walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to glow with an eerie red.

But then Alec realized that the surface he was touching was cold and wet, and when he pressed a hand against it—

“Magnus. Is this…ice?” He squinted at the surface, noticing the tiny bubbles trapped within.

He turned to stare at where Magnus stood with the orb of light cupped in his hands. Magnus was on a ledge where the doorway must have let out, obviously having sidestepped the incline that Alec had taken a tumble down.

“Yup!” he said, stepping onto the slope and sliding down easily on the soles of his shoes. He landed beside Alec as if it were something no more impressive than walking down a set of stairs.

Alec stood up and brushed ineffectively at the wet spot that ran the entire outside length of his pant leg, where he had slid on his considerably less graceful trip down from the ledge. Luckily, Magnus didn’t seem to be paying him any mind, head tilted back so he could look up at the ceiling. Alec craned his neck back to try and spot whatever it was he was looking at.

The ceiling was six or so meters up, red light glinting off the surface that arched down to the floor. The walls looked to be extremely smooth, only pocked with a few irregularities and imperfections that had drooped with time and gravity like glass drooping in its windowpane.

“Where are we?” Alec asked, touching the wall carefully. His fingertips ached with the cold.

“An ice cavern,” Magnus said, sounding unconcerned.

“An ice cavern,” Alec echoed weakly. He had seen ice before, of course. York had lakes that froze every winter, and icicles along the eaves of houses were also an annual sight, but Alec had never thought of ice as something that could _have_ caverns. Had never imagined that so much ice could even exist in one place.

“Yup,” said Magnus cheerfully. “I’m not sure where, though. The next doorway is in this cave as well, so I’ve never actually seen the outside of the cavern, but it _feels_ like we’re beneath at _least_ a few kilometres of ice.”

Alec looked up again, trying to remember how far a kilometre was. He remembered that it was about the distance from the palace to the local Iron Sisters smithy, which took about ten minutes to walk, and imagined that distance in ice, stretching above him. His chest tightened. Alec thought the weight must be terrible.

Magnus was still looking up, eyes searching.

“You should probably put on a rune for warmth, if you have one,” he nodded at Alec.

Alec complied, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side and scrawling a _warmth_ rune on his shoulder. The white glow of the stele was piercingly bright in the dim red glow.

“How do we find the next doorway?” Alec asked, tucking away the stele as warmth expanded from the rune in percolating waves.

Magnus grinned, his eyes full of gleeful mischief. He held the red light aloft.

“Like this,” he said, and closed his fingers, snuffing out the light.

Alec made a noise of surprise as they were again plunged into complete darkness. His still-fading _sight in darkness_ rune flared with power to try and make up the difference, but quickly burned itself out. The rune could only make the eyes better at capturing the light which was already present. It couldn’t do anything when there was no light at all.

“Magnus?” Alec said, throwing his arms out to feel around him. A soft chuckle sounded in his ear, and in the next moment, long fingers had wrapped themselves around his hand.

“I’m here,” Magnus’s voice said, not terribly close but still impossibly loud. The sound rumbled somewhere between a growl and a purr, and Alec felt his heart speed up in his chest.

“Ah,” Alec croaked. He wondered if he should extract his hand from Magnus’s grasp. He left it where it was, and Magnus laced their fingers together, pulling Alec towards him so that they were shoulder to shoulder.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” Magnus said, squeezing his hand.

Alec shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What are we waiting for, exactly?”

“Our guides,” Magnus said. “Sometimes they take a minute to realize someone’s here, and light only confuses the poor dears. So, we’ll have to wait until they regain their wits.”

Alec still didn’t understand, but he was beginning to accept that, when it came to Magnus, there were always going to be things that went over his head.

Besides, he was preoccupied with the fact that they were still holding hands. It grabbed for Alec’s attention unceasingly, as though he were standing in the cold air of mid-winter and had dipped his hand into a pot of water that was just shy of being too hot to bear. Every part of him took notice of his hand, and of Magnus’s grip. As his heart continued to beat, Alec thought he could feel his blood as it ran from his chest to his fingers, tingling warmly down its path as if delighting in the proximity.

Magnus was _so close._ Alec could hear him breathing, and although the dark meant he couldn’t see him, he could still imagine him perfectly in his mind’s eye. The set of his shoulders. The way he tilted his head when watching something, as if the whole world were a joke that only he understood. The flash of collarbone that Alec sometimes glimpsed from the neckline of his shirt.

Bizarrely, Alec thought of the stories of crushes and conquests Jace used to go on about. He remembered the way Jace’s eyes would sometimes trail after the women that passed them by; the wry smile that would appear, the sharpness of his appraising eyes, the cocked eyebrow. He would always elbow Alec, trying to exchange a grin with him at some private joke that Jace thought they were both in on. Alec had never understood it, though he had played along. But now, imagining those women as _Magnus,_ walking past with his fine clothing and confident gait, Alec thought he might have an inkling. Perhaps _this_ was the feeling Jace had spent all those nights chasing after in alehouses and brothels. The feeling of a hand holding his, and every wisp of his being straining to get a little closer.

Except, he knew how those brothel visits generally ended for Jace, and Alec knew that _that_ wasn’t something he could have.

But still. Here, in the dark, where there were no staring eyes and no one to judge him, Alec tightened his hand around Magnus’s and pretended it was something that he was allowed to hold onto, if only for a little longer.

When the soft shapes of the ice began to creep out of the darkness, it was so subtle that at first, Alec thought he was imagining it; an image his mind had desperately put forward in the absence of anything to see. It wasn’t until Magnus laughed, making him look over, that Alec realized he really _was_ starting to see. The _sight in darkness_ rune had long faded away, and yet Alec make out the shape Magnus’s silhouette, head tilted back to look at something above them. Alec looked up and choked in surprise.

“Are those _stars_?” he whispered, unsure why it suddenly felt so important to stay quiet.

“Nope!” Magnus said, evidently not sharing the same concern. “Those are our _guides._ I’m not really sure what they are, but they’re always very helpful about leading me to the next doorway.”

It took Alec a moment to realize the ‘stars’ formed a stream of lights along the ceiling, a tiny milky way where all the other stars in the sky had vanished. There were distinct points of light, but there was also a haze between those points that bound them together into a continuous river that pointed them forward.

Beside him, Alec heard Magnus sign wistfully.

“ _A path in the sky, the stars mark the way. The river is wide, from night flows the day_ ,” Magnus said. Alec could tell by the rhythmic cadence that he was reciting something.

“Is that a faery poem?” Alec asked.

Magnus made a dissenting sound.

“Vampire, I believe. Or maybe mundane? I honestly can’t say for certain. Whoever it was, they thought the milky way was a celestial river,” he pulled on their joined hands, reminding Alec with a jolt that they were still clasped together. “Come on. I’ll lead. I can see better in the dark than you can.”

Alec didn’t resist when Magnus began to pull him along. He was reminded of the leading and following of formal ballroom dancing, and he quickly learned to read the gentle way Magnus pulled and pushed him where he needed to move. They followed the stars, sidestepping obstacles and maneuvering around corners with clasped hands.

They had walked for a fair amount of time when Magnus spoke up, his whispered voice shockingly loud in the silence.

“Back in the forest,” he said, “With the pack, and the runed wolves? You were very good.”

Alec wasn’t sure what to say to that, and so he fell into an automatic platitude.

“Nephilim train to fight from a young age.”

Magnus breathed a laugh.

“I didn’t mean _that_ , although you’re definitely helpful in a fight. I mean you were _good_. Kind. You didn’t have to be, but you were.”

Alec’s throat was thick with guilt.

“I wasn’t,” he murmured. “Maybe it seemed like I was from the outside, but I…. my instincts were still to distrust the werewolves.”

“Hmm,” Magnus said. “And yet, despite your prejudices, you rescued numerous werewolves, helped defend the pack’s territory, and freely offered your strength to me. You might have saved my life.”

“Maybe,” Alec said, “But all of that could have been for selfish reasons. After all, I do need you to continue this quest.”

“Ah, yes. Your selfish quest to save your sister’s life,” Magnus laughed, giving Alec’s hand a squeeze. “You went beyond self-preservation, I think. If your intentions were _truly_ selfish, you wouldn’t have done nearly as much to help.”

Alec cleared his throat, hoping his blush wasn’t visible in the dim light.

“You give me too much credit,” he said. Magnus laughed as if Alec had just said something in jest.

Alec wondered again about Magnus. Everything Alec knew about foxes said that they weren’t supposed to help others for no personal gain, and yet Magnus had nearly let himself die for a pack of werewolves for no other reason than he cared for them. Had cared for them for years, if their interactions were any indication, and certainly had given more than he seemed to get in return.

Alec thought about the payment Magnus had asked for: the bird that could heal. He wondered if that, too, wasn’t just a way to help as many people as possible. Alec wondered if _he_ wasn’t one of the people Magnus was trying to help.

Magnus was good, Alec was beginning to realize. Much better than him, at any rate.

Magnus stopped. By the time Alec had realized this, he had already walked into his back, their clasped hands caught between them. Magnus chuckled and pulled Alec around so they stood side-by-side. Alec blinked in surprise at the sight before them.

For a moment, he thought the star path had looped from the ceiling of the cave, down the wall and across the floor. That might have explained the twinkling lights at their feet. But then Magnus let go of Alec’s hand, crouching down to touch the closest light. Ripples spread outwards from his fingers, and Alec realized that they were standing in front of a pool of water, as smooth as glass. It reflected the lights more perfectly than the best silver mirror in Alec’s palace, creating an exact double of each star above them.

The reflection enhanced the dim illumination, and as Alec stared into the dark, the walls of the cavern began to come into focus, silvery blue and shaped so perfectly like a sphere that Alec didn’t think it could possibly be natural. He crouched down beside Magnus.

"So, where's the doorway?"

Magnus grinned. "Right here,” he said, gesturing at the water.

Alec squinted.

"Like, on the shore, beside the pond?" He asked. Magnus shook his head

"No, I mean it’s _in_ the water," he said, then suddenly looked worried, "Wait. You do know how to swim, right?"

Alec turned and stared at Magnus in disbelief.

"I grew up in a landlocked kingdom. How, exactly, would I have ever learned to swim?"

Magnus sputtered. "But, the South-Eastern Sea is only one kingdom over! And—and your landlocked kingdom has rivers and lakes, doesn't it?"

It did, but swimming was a peasant's pastime, a way for people to deal with the heat when they couldn't afford drinks with real ice in them. Hardly something a prince should ever be caught dead doing. At least, that was what Alec’s mother had always said.

Naturally, Jace was an excellent swimmer.

"I can't swim," Alec said at last, his hands tightening into fists. "I never learned, and it's too late now. Is that going to be a problem?"

Magnus hesitated.

"...probably not?" He said. "The water here is only ankle-deep. But the other end lets out in deeper water."

"How deep?" Alec asked.

"Um," Magnus's face screwed up in thought, "Well, not _that_ deep, but the trouble is the doorway exits sideways, which is always an inconvenient possibility when travelling by doorway, and that isn’t usually a big problem, but—."

"Magnus," Alec interrupted. "How. Deep."

Magnus finally relented, looking guilty.

"You'll be fully submerged. It's very disorienting, but once you get your bearings and figure out which way up is, you can just stand," Magnus lifted his free hand and indicated a height at around his Adam's apple, "It’ll be about this deep on you, so it shouldn't be too bad..." he cut himself off, "Alec? Are you ok?"

"Fine," Alec said in a voice that was several keys higher than normal. Magnus squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"It'll be ok," he said, eyes softening from cold amber to warm sunshine, "You can hold onto me. I'll worry about getting us to the surface. You just need to concentrate on holding on tight and holding your breath."

"Hm," Alec said, not reassured.

“I could cast a few spells, if it’ll make you feel better,” Magnus offered. “Dryness, breath in water, that sort of thing.”

Alec quickly shook his head. He felt that he should be able to do this, _without_ magic to act as a crutch. (He recognized that that wasn’t really logical, but his pride doubled down on it.)

"Let’s just get this over with," He mumbled, turning towards water.

As he and Magnus stepped towards the mirror-like surface, Alec had the sudden, irrational worry that disturbing the surface would cause the whole thing to shatter.

It didn't shatter. The water accepted their booted feet as easily as any common pond might, ripples widening from around their ankles in concentric circles. It was wickedly cold as the water sunk between the leather’s seams, but Alec was just grateful that the bottom of the pool was solid ice. It was rough enough for him to keep his footing, but still slippery enough to make him hesitate with each step.

Magnus stopped a few meters from the water’s edge, turning to face him.

"Ok," Magnus said, raising his arms over his head, "Embrace me."

Alec tore his eyes from his feet.

"Huh?"

Magnus rolled his eyes, dropping his arms back down to his sides.

"Holding on to me will be easier if you start off that way," he looked thoughtful, "I think the best bet would be for you to hook your arms under my armpits and grip my shoulders with your hands. Harder to slip that way. Now," Magnus raised his arms again, this time only bringing them halfway up, "Embrace me."

Alec stepped forward, uncertain. He hooked his arms around Magnus's shoulders the way he had been told to, still trying to maintain a gap between their chests. Magnus wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed him, pressing his face into the curve of Alec’s neck so that they were flush together. He could feel warmth against the skin there as Magnus breathed a laugh.

"Hold on tight," Magnus said. Alec shut his eyes and curled his hands in the fabric of Magnus’s shirt, the pressure of his grip radiating up his arms like little whispers reminding him _‘don’t let go.’_

Magnus muttered a spell that Alec couldn’t hear and did something with his hands that Alec couldn't see. The ice under their feet turned to slush, and they sank into it down to their ankles. It was even colder than the water, nearly painfully so, but Alec only had to withstand it up to his ankles before a swirling white portal rose up to swallow them both. He barely had time to hold his breath when, all at once, Alec was surrounded by water.

Although it was warmer than the ice melt, the water was still a weight that pressed down on him from all sides, and a white-hot panic ripped through Alec. His instinct was to thrash, to try and shake loose whatever had entombed him, but he had anchored his hands securely, and through everything, he remembered that he needed to _hold on tight._ Still, he couldn’t keep his ribs from contracting in a cry that the water swallowed, his last breath escaping his mouth in a flood of bubbles that he felt pressing against his face as they scrambled for the surface.

Magnus tightened his arms around Alec’s shoulders, and Alec grit his teeth against the fear. He held onto Magnus, fingers shaking with the effort of it.

Magnus twisted around in the water, hauling Alec along with him, and, with a final kick off the ground, they broke the surface.

A gasping inhale ripped through Alec the moment the air touched his face. Logically, he knew that they had only been underwater for a few seconds, but to his lungs ached as if it had been an eternity. He just wasn’t used to not being able to take a breath whenever he felt like it.

"Alec?" Magnus said, patting Alec's back in a soothing gesture, "it's shallow enough that you should be able to stand now."

Alec suddenly realized he had managed to hook his legs around Magnus's hips, so that he was hanging off of him like some kind of monstrously huge child.

"Oh," Alec said, still breathless, "Right. I'll just..."

With an amount of difficulty that Alec would later deny, he unwrapped his legs and placed his feet on the ground, which was soft and sandy and gave easily under his boots. HeHe felt quite accomplished to be holding up his own weight. Magnus chuckled.

"Not that I'm in a hurry, but you can let go with your arms, too, if you like."

Alec was _still_ clutching Magnus, holding him so they were chest-to-chest with his chin hooked over Magnus’s shoulder.

"Ah," Alec said, not letting go. "I'll get right on that. Just as soon as you tell me which way land is."

Magnus breathed another laugh.

"Right behind you," he said, "you can even turn your head to see it."

Alec did. The land wasn't far, maybe two meters away, and covered in what looked like fine, white sand.

"Ok," Alec said, nodding, "I can make that."

He still didn't let go.

"How about I walk you?" Magnus asked. Alec thought about it.

"That would be much appreciated," he said, nodding.

Walking to the shore while clinging to another man was probably harder than walking on ones own, but apparently whatever controlled Alec's fear response didn't care about that. The water was scary, and Magnus had saved him from it. Ergo, he couldn't let go of Magnus until he was out of the water. It was just basic fear-logic.

Magnus helped him out of the water and onto the sand, his expression amused as Alec half-fell onto the cool, dry sand. Alec could feel the sand sticking to his wet clothing and skin, all down his back, but he didn’t care. He covered his eyes with a hand, and the combination of cool sand and a gentle breeze sent a shiver down his spine.

“Here,” Magnus said. He waved his hand, and with a flash of lilac light, Alec was dry.

Alec managed a shaky smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For you? Anytime.” Magnus winked. He sat with a huff on the sand next to Alec.

“You did good,” he said, magicking himself dry. “We’ve made it through, and now you just need to concentrate on catching your breath.”

Alec would have been offended by the implication that a brief stint underwater had winded him, but he was too busy gasping as much air as his lungs would allow.

Magnus looked out over the water.

“Take your time,” he said, pulling a pocket watch from the air and checking it. “The next doorway is close, but we can’t go through until tomorrow.”

The pocket watch vanished and Magnus rested his hand on Alec's head, finding a lock of hair and twirling it around his finger distractedly as he watched the waves lapping at the shore.

Alec sighed happily, his breath calming under the rhythmic ministrations. Despite this, his heart was still beating in his ears. It grew louder as Magnus pressed his fingers hard into his scalp, like he was working shampoo into his hair.

Alec hummed happily at the feeling. “Which 'Tomorrow'?”

“Hm?” Magnus said, distracted. “Sorry, what?”

Alec cracked open an eye.

“You said we would leave 'tomorrow’. Which tomorrow? The tomorrow that starts after we wake up from a long sleep, or the tomorrow that we’ll see in twenty-four hours?”

Magnus snorted. “Ok, wise guy. 18 or so hours from now. Is that specific enough?”

Alec folded his hands beneath his head, relaxing into the sand.

“Sure, I can work with that,” Alec squinted against the sun, which was still low in the seashell-pink sky. “Why the delay?”

Magnus’s smile faded slightly.

“The next doorway takes us into the lands of the Seelie Court,” Magnus said. “It’s best if we avoid any and all contact with the seelies while trespassing, so we’re going to time it so we pass by during a revel. They’re never very good about guarding their lands during a revel.”

Alec shivered, though the breeze was less biting now than it had been when wet.

Alec disliked any delay, but he also disliked being at odds with the Seelie Court. He’d sooner raid a Ravener demon nest solo than go toe-to-toe with a territorial seelie.

He sat up to look along the beach.

It was a picturesque scene, like something from a whimsical painting. The rising sun (for indeed Alec could see that it had already climbed a little higher) brought a pink flush to the sky that the ocean reflected with choppy clarity. The clouds seemed to be edged in orange and gold, reminding Alec of the Golden Bird, and the sand also caught a small amount of the same orange light, giving it a sense of warmth that was in direct conflict with the coolness of the morning air.

The whole scene felt like a place outside of time, a whimsical painting on a cold stone wall, but even as Alec watched, the pink sky began to fade to blue. The air warmed, and he took a deep breath, the sun on his face sinking into his bones like water into a porous stone.

“Alright,” he said, looking over at Magnus. “So, we wait. There are worse places to do that.”

Magnus smiled wider than Alec thought possible.

“I was thinking _exactly_ the same thing,” he said.

The temperature climbed quickly with the sun, and though Alec was getting uncomfortably warm, he was hesitant to move from his place in the sand when he knew he just…didn't have to. What eventually spurred him to action was simple: Magnus took off his shirt.

He didn't even warn Alec. He simply pulled the fabric over his head, slower than seemed necessary, exposing skin and muscle inch by tantalizing inch as Alec watched with wide eyes. Magnus pulled his head free, his hair mussed charmingly, and looked at Alec with piercing fox eyes as he slid the shirt down his arms.

“It’s getting hot,” Magnus said, vanishing the fabric.

Alec fought to keep his face neutral.

“If you’re just going to vanish it, why do you need to take it off like…that?”

Magnus laughed, resting his hands on his waist.

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, winking, “Unwrapping the goods is part of the fun.”

Alec was on his feet and ~~fleeing~~ walking down the beach a moment later.

It grew warmer.

He kept his shirt on.

Magnus collected shells as they walked. He showed Alec any particularly nice specimens he found, as well as a few rocks that were sparkly or shiny or interestingly shaped, before tucking them into his pocket dimensions for safekeeping.

After a while, Magnus kicked off his shoes, vanishing them so he could walk barefoot in the ocean to grab shells from the shallows. After some prompting, Alec took off his footwear and walked alongside him, though he kept to the part of the beach the waves only brushed occasionally, so that the cool water only reached him every few minutes in a shy _hush_ of turbulent sand.

Some of the shells Magnus picked up were very pretty, with pink and orange and purple patterns, but many were sun-bleached and ragged. These he vanished immediately.

“Crushed shells are useful,” Magnus explained when Alec asked, holding up a round shell with pink and yellow stripes, “but there are plenty of broken shells for that. It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful to make _lime_.”

He ended up making a necklace out of a half-dozen orange scallop shells, hanging them around his neck so they clattered with his movement. It was an odd reminder of the orange fur of his fox form.

Magnus spun on one foot, the other dragging a circle into the sand in a foxish display of delight. He laughed, throwing his head back as the necklace created the cacophony of a handful of silver coins clattering against the floor.

The beach brought out the fox in Magnus. For most of the walk along the shore, he stuck to Alec's side like glue, arm often hooked around his waist or through the loop of his elbow, and he would periodically press his forehead to Alec's shoulder, nuzzling it hard enough that Alec could feel the grind of bone. But every now and again, Magnus would tense with excitement at Alec's side, and after a few trembling moments of anticipation, would burst forward into his fox form and sprint across the sand, pouncing on waves and crabs and snapping at the ocean spray. These outbursts never lasted more than a few minutes, and Magnus always returned looking a little sheepish, cheeks flushed with exertion or embarrassment.

After a particularly enthusiastic round chasing a seagull back and forth along the beach, Alec couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

Magnus stopped short, black-tipped ears perked, even though it allowed the seagull to fly off with outraged shriek. He turned to look at Alec, and his eyes were sun-bright shards of amber, bordered by black markings that weren’t unlike the eyeliner Magnus wore in his human form.

Alec approached, shielding his eyes from the sun to try and see where the bird had gone. It had landed a dozen or so meters up the beach, watching them warily.

“Son of a bitch,” Alec laughed, nodding at the bird. “There’s so much beach. You’d think the damn thing would at least fly a little further.”

Magnus sat, not even sparing the bird a glance. His tail curled around him.

“What?” Alec asked. He tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“You don’t,” Magnus paused, wetting his nose with his tongue, “You don’t think it’s… dumb?”

Alec glanced at the bird, which had relaxed enough to return to pecking at the surf.

“Chasing seagulls?” he asked. “Or running on the beach in general?”

Magnus exhaled through his nose, looking away.

“Both, I guess,” He kept his eyes on the waves. “Isn’t it… undignified?”

“Undignified?” Alec wasn’t sure what had Magnus so bothered. “Magnus, you’re a fox. I don’t think it’s undignified for the wind to blow, or for trees to grow. How can something be undignified if it’s just… part of you?”

Magnus’s ears twitched. “Maybe,” he said. “But a fox isn’t all I am. I’m also a man, and a man should have better self-control.”

Alec stared at Magnus, confused, then looked at the seagull. It was mostly ignoring them now, having found some sort of mollusk to peck at in the meantime.

Alec took one step towards it, but it didn’t react. Then he took a few more, gaining speed each time, until he was sprinting. The seagull squawked when he got too close, scrambling to grab its meal as it started to run along the sand, flapping its wings. It finally took off as Alec jumped after it, hand outstretched. Predictably, his fingers closed around empty air.

He landed on the sand with a huff, letting himself tip over and roll onto his back, laughing. He was still looking at the sky, giggling, when Magnus arrived in his human form and shaded him from the sun. He looked as though he thought Alec might have gone insane.

Alec was still chuckling. “A man is all I’ve ever been, and that was fun as hell,” he said, accepting Magnus’s offered hand. “Maybe it’s _humans_ who should work on being _less_ dignified, every once in a while. It’s not like chasing birds is going to hurt anyone.”

Magnus hauled Alec to his feet, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

“Try telling that to the gulls,” Magnus said, but he was smiling. He brushed some sand out of Alec’s hair with careful fingers. The motion brought their faces close. Alec could see a faint smattering of freckles on Magnus’s nose.

Alec cleared his throat, taking a step back.

“Maybe, uh. Maybe we should have some lunch?” he wasn’t sure how long it had been since their breakfast of apples and salted pork, but he was hungry. Magnus agreed easily, and they sat on the beach eating bread and a sticky-sweet fruit that Alec had never seen before and Magnus called rambutan. Magnus showed him how to peel back the red, hairy skin to reveal the white flesh underneath, and they both laughed when Alec fumbled his first attempt and sent the morsel into the sand.

“Here we are,” Magnus said, a few hours later.

It was a point where the beach ended. Or, not _ended_ so much as was interrupted by a wide stretch of black stone, three meters tall and flat-topped. The shore curved around the bay, and Alec could see another stretch of sandy beach beyond the formation.

There was a crack through the middle of the rock, a bit less than a meter wide, that looked like a deliberate path that curved suddenly to the left a few meters in. Its edges had long been rounded by the rain and wind, but it still had a distinct sense of _randomness_ that Alec associated with things created by natural forces.

Alec glanced at the sun, which hadn’t yet reached the apex of the sky.

“That was fast,” he commented.

Magnus made a noise of agreement. “Fourteen hours to spare. I’m sure we can keep ourselves busy,” he jabbed a thumb at the formation. “Do you want to see the doorway entrance now? It’ll be dark when we leave, and this one is best enjoyed in daylight,” Magnus leaned in, cupping his hand around his mouth as though he were telling a secret. “And honestly? It's cool as hell.”

Alec shrugged.

“Okay.”

Magnus led the way, and the moment they stepped inside the corridor the temperature noticeably dropped several degrees. Alec blinked in surprise, glancing up to confirm that the sky still shone above him. It did, a blue ribbon that seemed just out of his reach.

It was not a maze, although the passage did give the illusion of narrowing around them. There were no junctions, no alternate routes, and absolutely no way to get lost, but Alec still found himself looking over his shoulder, as if to reassure himself the walls hadn’t closed behind him. Objectively, it was more open and navigable than the ice cave had been, but Alec still couldn’t shake the feeling of being _lost_ that tugged at his chest.

“There she is!” Magnus suddenly cooed, as if he were speaking to a small animal. Alec leaned over to look and immediately blanched.

It was the skeleton of a monster, trapped in the stone.

Its skull was enormous, nearly as long as Alec was tall, and looked like that of a dragon. Alec’s hand snapped to his blade, mind whirling with thoughts of demons that could be trapped in stone for millennia, only to escape because children exploring caves or careless miners accidentally triggered some mechanism or another.

This creature was still mostly encased in stone, the neck vertebrae emerging from the rock and immediately curving left so that its skull looked to the right, heavy-set jaws open and lined with conical teeth. The eye socket contained a ring of boney plates arranged in a circle like the iris of an eye, glaring at Alec even in death.

Magnus placed a hand over Alec’s where it was resting on the hilt of his blade. Alec started, meeting Magnus’s eyes warily.

“It’s dead,” Magnus said. “Really. The only magic here is the doorway, and there’s nothing alive about it.”

Alec stared at the creature’s teeth. “Are you sure?”

Magnus nodded, holding a hand over the skull.

“I’m _very_ good at detecting magic, demonic or otherwise. As for life, well… this thing doesn’t even feel like a dead body,” he waved his fingers. “Rock and bone have different magical signals. If I weren’t looking right at it, I would assume that this thing was nothing but plain old stone.”

Alec reluctantly let go of his sword, squinting at the beast. “But where did it come from?”

“No one knows,” Magnus shrugged. “Even the oldest spirits of the mountains don’t remember anything like this ever having lived. There are some beings, far more ancient, that might know, but they have never spoken in living memory, so we can’t ask them.”

“Huh,” Alec said, leaning closer to get a better look at the teeth, which he could see were curved slightly back, like those of a snake. “Weird.”

Magnus nudged him, grinning, “but also cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathed a laugh, shaking his head, “But also cool.”

They left the beast behind (“I call her Darcy!”) and found a shady spot near the doorway, beneath the spreading branches of a tree that Magnus called a _keben-keben._ It had a rough-barked trunk that looked like a giant had gripped it in its fist and squeezed, branches that stretched out over the sandy beach, waxy leaves the size of Alec’s outstretched hand, and flowers that looked like little bundles of white and pink string.

They each found ways to busy themselves, Magnus collecting more seashells in the shallows while Alec stayed beneath the tree and sorted his arrows, counting them, straightening the fletching, and applying and re-applying runes. When Magnus approached him with a necklace strung with spiral shells the colour of cornflowers, Alec obediently bowed his head to accept it.

Magnus got braver in the water, rolling his pant legs higher and higher to collect treasures deeper and deeper. Alec wondered how long it could go on, and that question was answered when, with his pants rolled to just over his knees, Magnus seemed to spot something of interest further out in the water and, after a moment of deliberation, went to untie his belt.

Alec barely had time to slap his hands over his eyes before Magnus’s pants dropped.

“What are you _doing_?” Alec’s voice reached a higher pitch than he cared to admit.

“Huh?” Magnus sounded confused.

“Your _clothes_!”

“What? I vanished them before they hit the water.”

Alec sputtered, pressing his hands tighter against his eyes. “But you’re—but you can’t just get _naked_!”

“Why not?”

“Because _I’m_ here!”

“I see…,” Magnus said in a way that really meant ‘I don’t understand why you’re being like this but whatever’, “Well, what if I keep my undergarments on?”

Alec pictured the knee-length braies he himself preferred. They weren’t really so different from shortened pants, and Alec thought he could handle a _little_ bit of leg.

“Alright,” Alec said. There was a sound of fingers snapping, and he uncovered his eyes, only to immediately choke.

Magnus was wearing a pair of braies, _technically,_ but they weren’t the knee-length shorts Alec was expecting. They weren’t even thigh-length, the off-white fabric creating a sharp V that covered Magnus’s groin and very little else. Magnus didn’t seem aware of Alec’s shock, and he turned around to dive into the water after without a moment of hesitation.

His entire ass was bare. Alec managed to get an eyeful of it before Magnus disappeared beneath the surf.

With a deep breath, Alec put his arrows aside and curled his knees to his chest, watching Magnus resurface with a large conch shell held above his head triumphantly.

A tiny crab scuttled over Alec’s foot. He looked down at it. It looked back judgementally. Alec glared.

“You don’t know me,” he muttered.

The crab rocked side to side, as of to say, 'more or less’, and then continued on its sideways scuttle. Alec rested his forehead on his knees and cursed all crabs under his breath.

Magnus swam for what seemed like hours, diving and splashing and laughing, while Alec took a nap in the shade. He was woken when Magnus sat down heavily next to him, the soft _crunch_ of the sand cushioning his fall punctuating the waves hushing against the shore. Alec cracked open his eyes to glance at him, saw the long stretch of his still-wet legs glinting in the sunlight as Magnus laid back, and immediately snapped his attention to Magnus’s face.

Magnus looked as though he was sleeping, his eyelashes dark-feathered wings that cast shadows on his cheeks. He was softer like this, the beach removing a sharpness that Alec had forgotten was even there.

Magnus often wore a particular grin, like he could cut you with his words alone and _knew_ it, but today he seemed kinder, like the sort of person who might play with werewolf children and heal the wounds of a near-stranger despite being dangerously low on magic. Today, his smile was a quiet statement of contentment.

Alec felt the sudden urge to taste that statement.

“You know,” Magnus said before Alec could act on the impulse, “I grew up in a place not unlike this.”

Alec sat up. Magnus didn’t move, and Alec considered pretending he hadn’t heard.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “I didn't know foxes lived in these sorts of places,” he said, glancing at the dense greenery behind them.

“They don't,” Magnus said, voice a plain statement of fact that invited no further questions. He breathed in deeply through his nose, releasing the air with a chuckle. “I still love these sorts of spots. It smells familiar. Like the air could heal all the wounds of the soul. You know, one time, I brought—.”

Magnus choked. His eyes flew open in surprise, pupils snapping to narrow slits and a hand flying to his throat as he struggled to take a breath. His mouth opened and closed like a fish until, sitting up with the force of it, he began to cough. It wasn't the hacking cough of illness, but the sharp percussion of a blocked airway.

Alec rushed to slap him on the back a few times.

The fit subsided, and Magnus slumped forward under Alec's hand, resting his forehead atop his knees. His naked legs were half-coated in sand, and it somehow made him seem more fragile, as though the grains were bits of himself shaken loose.

“ _Really?_ ” Magnus muttered as he regained his breath. “That counts? _That!?_ ”

“Magnus?” Alec touched his back, concerned.

Magnus sat up with his usual chokeweed smile. It made Alec internally recoil.

“Nothing my dear,” Magnus said, reaching out to smooth back a lock of Alec's hair. He turned suddenly, sweeping an arm to encompass the sweep of the shore. “ _This_ is what I meant when I told you about 'real’ beaches. Bright sun, warm sand, and an ocean breeze that's less 'being stabbed by ice knives’ and more 'soothing and refreshing’”

It was an obvious avoidance, but Alec allowed it.

“The beaches at home aren't so bad, as long as you bring a jacket,” he said, leaning back to rest on his elbows. “They're excellent for horseback riding.”

“Maybe so,” Magnus conceded. “But you have to admit that this is nice as well.”

Alec looked out over the water. It was a handful of polished turquoises thrown across a glass table, vibrant and clattering.

“Yeah,” he murmured, scooping up some white sand and letting it fall through his fingers. “Yeah, this is nice.”

Magnus laughed, throwing his arms around Alec's shoulders and squishing their cheeks together. Alec accepted it with only a little grumbling.

After wrapping a fine cloth around his hips to provide an illusion of modesty (one which was quite ruined by the fact that the fabric was entirely see-through) Magnus provided a supper of roast fish, hot and steaming straight from one of his pocket dimensions, and some kind of cooked tuber that was not unlike potatoes, though the flesh was a bit starchier and sweeter than what Alec was expecting. They ate from the same plate, tossing the fish bones to the seagulls, and when they had finished, Magnus produced a piece of bread that they cleaned the plate with.

Alec sighed happily when he finished, laying down with a hand on his full stomach. “That was good.”

Magnus hummed in agreement, lounging beside him. Alec turned his head to look at him. Magnus was busying himself with some of the flowers that had fallen from the tree, little sunbursts scattered along the sand. Each bloom had four small white petals the size of Alec's pinky nail, from the centre of which dozens of string-like structures burst outwards into a globe, white near the base and bright pink near the tips. There was a dozen within reach, and Magnus picked up a few of them for his own collection. They smelt of sickly-sweet fruit just shy of rot.

Magnus paused as he picked up one particularly pristine flower, examining it carefully before turning and tucking it behind Alec’s ear. Magnus giggled when Alec wrinkled his nose at the somewhat cloying scent, immediately pulling it from his hair and tucking it behind Magnus’s ear instead.

Magnus fluttered his eyelashes, posing with his hand beneath his chin.

“How do I look?” he asked, eyes bright with mirth. Alec examined him with narrowed eyes.

The pink and white petals contrasted nicely with Magnus’s dark hair. His sun-darkened skin was dappled with sunlight that filtered through the leaves, and even in the shade, Alec could see that his chest was wet with sweat. It glinted in a path that followed the line of Magnus’s neck.

Alec reached out and ran a finger along that path before he realized what he was doing. He froze, fingertip turning into a sparking point of anticipation as, shakily, he looked up to gauge Magnus’s reaction.

Magnus’s lips had parted in surprise, his eyes trying to tell him something. Alec thought it might have been a question, or perhaps a request. He moved his hand to cradle Magnus’s face, and as he brushed his thumb over Magnus’s cheekbone, he thought his eyes may have said _‘Please’._

“Beautiful,” Alec murmured. “You look beautiful, Magnus.”

Magnus melted, averting his gaze with a smile that was sun-warmed honey. Alec leaned in, smelling the sweetness of the flower, and Magnus leaned in as well…

But then Magnus blinked, and his expression went from eager to panicked. He pushed Alec back, creating a space between them and curling his legs against his chest.

Alec blinked in surprise at the sudden change, watching as Magnus pulled the flower from his hair and cradled it in his hands.

“You know,” he said conversationally, eyes on the flower, “There’s a story about the _keben-keben_ that someone told me once. Would you like to hear it?”

Alec wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden change in the air, so he crossed his legs as well, mirroring Magnus’s posture. “Alright.”

Magnus took a deep breath, tracing a finger around the flower’s edges.

“One night,” he began at a near-whisper, eyes far away, “When the moon had just awoken from being new, an ocean spirit met a beautiful mortal on the beach. They fell in love, and they met each other every night for an entire summer, always in that same spot on the beach. Neither ever missed their appointment, nor were even late, because they yearned for one another’s touch like a man lost at sea yearns for sweet water. But one night, the young lover went early to meet the spirit, and instead found at the meeting place the spirit’s enemy, who was jealous of their happiness and so had decided to poison the lover.

“The ocean spirit arrived too late, finding their lover’s lifeless body, cold in the sand, and in their grief, the spirit took the heart of their lover and buried it on the beach where once they had made love. Then, the ocean spirit vowed to never again return to a place of such tragedy. Months later, the first _keben-keben_ tree sprouted from the place the lover’s heart had been buried, every part of it full of the same poison that had killed them. Every evening, the tree would bloom in anticipation for the ocean spirit’s moonlit visit, and every morning, the flowers would fall from the branches like tears of grief and loneliness, for the spirit never came. And it never will again.”

Alec stared.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s. Um. Not a very happy story.”

Magnus chuckled sadly. “No, I suppose it isn’t,” he twisted the flower back and forth, making the strings sway. “But the flower itself is supposed to represent truth. Can you believe that? _Truth_. Born of tragedy, filled with poison, met only with disappointment. I suppose that's fitting.” He dug his thumbs into the centre of the flower, peeling it apart like breaking an orange into two halves.

Alec watched the two halves fall onto the sand, pink and white and limp, and the memory of words sprang to his lips before he could consider them.

“‘Some things can be seen in ways we cannot say.’”

Magnus looked up sharply.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked. His voice had the thickness of suppressed tears.

Alec shrugged, taking a few handfuls of sand and pouring them over one of the broken pieces of the flower until it was buried under a neat pile. “Something Izzy said to me, right before I left York. I think it’s a line from some poetry or something.”

Magnus opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“It is,” he said at last. “Seelie.”

Alec nodded. “Do you know the rest of the poem?”

“No,” Magnus said. “That line just sticks in your head. Like the chorus of a song.”

Magnus was looking at him, his black-lined eyes full of vulnerability as Alec searched for the words he wanted to say.

It wasn’t quite right to claim he didn’t care about Magnus’s secrets, simply because it was a lie. Alec _did_ care. He desperately wanted to know the pieces of Magnus that always seemed just out of view. From their first tense conversation in his rooms, Alec had felt that he was close, _so_ close to something important. As though, if he just followed one more trail, checked around one more corner, all would be revealed. It hadn’t happened yet, but it had only been a few days, and Alec was patient.

Besides, he knew a bit about what it was like the keep a few secrets. He wouldn't begrudge Magnus for his locked doors.

“I don’t know the rest of the words, either,” Alec said, “But I think… I think what Izzy meant by it, was that there are some truths that we just can’t express with words. Ineffable truths,” he hesitated, and then reached for Magnus’s hand. “Sometimes its because language just doesn’t contain the words we need, or because it’s so outside the other person’s experience that they can’t possibly comprehend when we try to explain. But there are other reasons we can’t speak the truth,” Alec looked up at Magnus, who’s eyes were full of something that may have been fear. “It’s okay if you can’t always be honest, Magnus.”

Magnus snatched his hand back, shaking his head as he rushed to his feet.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said, not meeting Alec's eyes. “I’m sorry, but I think—I just—I need to think some things through. Alone.”

“Oh. Um. Okay,” Alec gnawed on his lip. “How long should I wait before I send a search party?”

That managed to get a strained smile out of Magnus. He pointed towards the sea.

“If I’m still gone by the time the _keben-keben's_ shadow touches the surf, _then_ you may send out your search party of one.”

Alec glanced at the water. He guessed that it would take maybe two hours for the shadow to reach that point. He nodded.

Magnus transformed into a fox, and in his posture, Alec saw an animal under the eyes of something dangerous and unknown. His every movement held the warring fears of standing firm or running, knowing that either may just as easily lead to death.

Alec tried for a reassuring smile. Magnus didn’t return it; he turned and trotted away.

Alec leaned back on the sand. His hand still ached with the memory of holding Magnus’s face. The electric tension of leaning forward into the unknown, only to fall into empty space.

 _Were we going to kiss?_ Alec wondered, closing his eyes. _Is that what that was? Were we about to kiss, and he put a stop to it?_ ”

Clearly, Magnus had been preoccupied with other things, telling stories about poisonous truths and tragedy, but Alec’s mind kept dragging him back to the shape of his mouth, and how he imagined it might feel against his.

Alec could feel his thoughts spiralling, and, for a moment, he indulged them. He let himself wonder if Magnus hadn’t been serious about his flirting as Alec had ~~hoped~~ assumed. Perhaps Magnus was just an affectionate person. All of the complements, the casual touches, the words about crushes and feelings and pretty faces; perhaps they were all misunderstandings on Alec's part. Perhaps Alec had just seen what he had wanted to see: a handsome man who desired him.

Perhaps Magnus had seen Alec’s desire and been disgusted by it.

He covered his face with his hands.

“Stop it,” Alec said to himself. “You’re being ridiculous. Not kissing someone isn’t the same thing as hating someone,” his breath hitched. “ _Stop it_. He never said anything like that. It’s _not about you_.”

He laid there for either minutes or hours, breathing and murmuring reminders to himself that were snatched away from his lips by the breeze.

After a while, his thoughts began to untangle, and he felt like he could breathe again. He looked over at where Magnus had been sitting. The other half of the flower still sat on the ground, beside the indent Magnus had left behind. Alec reached over and pushed a wave of sand to cover it as well. He let his head fall, forehead pressing into the sand, and tried to concentrate on the warmth.

A hand touched his foot, fingers gentle.

Alec felt some of the tension in his shoulders release.

"That was fast,” Alec said, lifting his head. “I didn’t hear you—.” He opened his eyes.

It wasn't Magnus.

The thing in front of him peeked through a tangle of kelp and stringy black hair. It was human-shaped in only the broadest sense, with too-long arms and a too-large head. The eyes were too far apart and entirely lacked pupils, gazing at him with white planes. It smiled with its over-wide mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth that filled its grin ear to ear.

Its hand went from gentle to rough on his ankle, its second hand closing around Alec's calf and, with a strength that was beyond the size of its bone-thin arms, it was dragging him down the beach.

Alec shouted in alarm, kicking out and managing to catch it across the face with his bare foot, but the creature didn’t seem to feel it. It just continued to smile as it yanked him into the surf. One wave crashed over them, receding just long enough for Alec to gulp down a breath of air before he was pulled down below the surface.

He closed his eyes against the sting of saltwater, kicking again at the creature, but it just drew him deeper and deeper into the water. Finally, when Alec's ears had begun to sharply ache, the creature stopped dragging him. There was a moment of confused stillness before it slammed his body against what felt like a rock covered in shards of broken ceramics.

Alec's last breath of air was knocked out of him on the first impact, eyes flying open to watch the bubbles escaping his mouth in tiny silver orbs that wobbled on their way to the surface.

The second impact, and Alec felt a stinging pain along his right shoulder. He had time, bizarrely, to mourn the fact that that was his bow arm, and an injury there would make it more difficult to keep his aim steady.

The third slam connected his skull and the rock with a loud crack that echoed in Alec's ears.

Everything softened. His chest was already screaming for air, but suddenly he didn't care about that so much. He was a bit tired, a bit woozy, and he just wanted to lay down for a minute, just rest for a bit.

Alec couldn’t be sure when, exactly, he lost consciousness, but he did know that he had no memory of being slammed down the fourth and fifth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mother fucking sea monsters >:0
> 
> Me @ Me: is it better to imply things or shove it down the reader’s throats?
> 
> Also Me @ Me: it’s your work, how about do what you want
> 
> ALSO Me @ Me: wow you’re so right.  
>    
> Like I said before, I JUST wrote this, so I expect there to be quite a few mistakes. Plus, this ended up being SO LONG. Let me know about mistakes/ typos/ confusing things/ repeated sentences gently? 
> 
> I now have a spreadsheet of time zones because I PLAYED MYSELF by using them at all. It’s hard to keep track of how long it’s been since Alec last slept and such. I think my Excel skillz are pretty OK, but if you notice a weird inconsistency let me know because my ability to overlook things knows no bounds.
> 
>   
> Notes on science and folklore:
> 
> Obsidian lava tubes:  
> I made up the geology as I went. I know that a) lava tubes are real, and b) obsidian is an igneous rock. After that I just sort of… improvised? My excuse is that Magnus is just guessing so could be wrong, and also magic. So. Geologists pls don’t come for my throat, even though I may deserve it.
> 
> Seagull:  
> The me who is a bird-watcher and took university courses in ornithology: there’s no such thing as a “seagull”. Only gulls. The me who recognizes that common names and language don’t always have to line up with what a few experts think is ‘correct’: SEAGULLS ARE GULLS AND GULLS ARE SEAGULLS.
> 
> Monster in the Rock:  
> more made-up geology! It’s a fossil, in case you didn’t catch that 😉. I’m picturing a Prognathodon, which is a type of Mosasaur, which is like a… lizard dolphin? Google it to see some super amazing pictures of the fossils & artist recreations, but the specific picture I was looking at was this one: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8b/Tyrrell_mosasaur.jpg
> 
> Keban-keban: Barringtonia asiatica, a.k.a. the fish poison tree, so-called because the fruit of the tree were traditionally used in multiple cultures to chemically paralyze fishes without affecting the meat. Assuming the translations of sources to English are correct (*nervous chuckle* hashtag that google translate life?), then in modern Indonesia, it’s commonly associated with environmental sustainability and also represents truth and maybe bravery (I _think_ ). Some sources link it with the Kalpataru of Hindu writings, which can be thought of as a Tree of Life. The growing from a buried heart thing is based on a few references to the name in some languages meaning “heart”. According to one (1) person on social media who I don’t actually know, there’s a story that it’s named such because the first one grew from a buried heart of a maiden, but I couldn’t find any more info on that other than that one passing comment, so I have no idea if it’s an actual story or if this one (1) person made it up??? So I filled gaps to try and make a narrative with it.
> 
> The next chapter shouldn't have a delay, as I've actually written it this time.


	7. The Seelie Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively Titled: The Fox and the Warlock. 
> 
> Alec and Magnus are dragged before the Seelie Court. Fragments of the past are revealed, evil ex girlfriends endured, and secrets begin to unravel.
> 
> Plus, there's some sexually-charged use of a washcloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY I SURE AM EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER.  
> You may have noticed that I cut the final total chapter number WAY down. This is because it was getting too. damn. long. And I've decided to split the story into a few separate fics bc it feels like a more obtainable milestone.  
> (im not gonna lie i could change my mind about that in 0.5s so we'll just have to wait and see :0)  
> Any horrible things said by horrible characters do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. Remember: the character is horrible.  
> Any mistakes are my own. Still unbetaed because anything else would require keeping up a regular correspondence with a human being and that's too hard, i guess :o)

**Chapter 7: The Seelie Court**

_"Men have forgotten this truth” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed”_

– Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Alec would have been surprised when he opened his eyes at all, except he was distracted when he immediately began coughing up what felt like an ocean’s worth of seawater. He struggled to take a breath, his throat burning caustically.

A hand rested on his back and, with a slight tingle beneath his ribs, the pain faded away.

Alec gasped desperately. His shoulder still ached, and there was a sharp pain radiating from the back of his head, but his lungs were blissfully clear. Once he had caught his breath somewhat, he lifted his head, staring blearily into Magnus's panicked face. He, too, was soaking wet, with droplets dripping from the tip of his nose and hair plastered to the side of his face.

"Alec! Are you okay? Wait, no, dumb question. You just almost drowned, of course you're not okay," Magnus said, smoothing the wet hair off of Alec's brow with a frantic movement, " Okay. You’ll be okay. Just concentrate on breathing, okay? I can heal most of your injuries, but you need to do the work of breathing, so just do that and you’ll be—."

"Magnus."

Magnus snapped his mouth shut, examining Alec's face with wide, golden eyes.

"Yes?" Magnus said, voice small. Alec let out another small cough.

"On second thought," Alec said, "The trip through the doorway wasn't so bad."

Magnus stared down at him.

"Was... was that a joke?" Magnus asked, baffled, "Are you trying to _joke_ right now, Alexander?"

"What? No, of course not,” Alec managed a weak smile. "It’s just that, now that I know what drowning is _really_ like, I don’t think the doorway was much like drowning at all."

Magnus half-laughed, half-sobbed, leaning down to press his face into the wet fabric of Alec's shirt. Alec watched a droplet roll from his hairline down his cheek like a cold tear.

"You're impossible," Magnus muttered, sitting up and wiping the droplet away with the heel of his hand, "I'm going to heal you now, so please just... just breathe, okay?"

"Mmkay," Alec hummed, indulging in the sight of the planes of Magnus's face.

Magnus pulled Alec onto his lap and cupped the back of his head in his palm, centred where it hurt most sharply. The magic radiated along Alec's scalp in waves, a heartbeat beneath his skin, and Magnus's face creased with concentration. Alec stared at the little wrinkle between his eyebrows, struck with the desire to poke it.

"Ah," Magnus muttered, apparently to himself, "There it is."

His fingers tensed against Alec's scalp and, in an instant, the fog in Alec’s head cleared. Magnus sat back, smiling tiredly.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Alec touched the spot where the wound had been, surprised by the lack of bump where, just a moment ago, it had ached so acutely. He checked his fingers and found no blood.

"I... Yes. Much better. Thank you."

Magnus smiled, a devastatingly soft expression. Alec felt the same pulsing warmth he had felt from Magnus’s magic, this time in his chest, even as he could see that Magnus was not performing any spells.

"Don’t mention it," Magnus said. His smile fell away, the warmth of the moment quickly fading, and he cleared his throat. “Now, let me see that shoulder. I’m still going to need your bow arm to get the Golden Bird, after all."

He didn’t sound like he really meant the words. It was more like he was stating it for his own benefit, a verbal reminder of their arrangement. Magnus moved behind Alec and began to tend to the injury on his shoulder blade with a tenderness that Alec thought went beyond a simple business relationship, though he was perhaps a little biased.

"Still," Alec said, sighing as the pain faded away. "Thank you."

Magnus's hands paused for a moment. "You're welcome,” he whispered.

They sat in silence, Alec trying to time his breathing with the breaking of each wave as Magnus worked.

"What happened to the creature?" Alec asked after a while, glancing out at the water.

"The kelpie? I killed her." Magnus pointed at the very obvious dead body that sat a meter or so away from them on the beach.

"Ah," Alec said, trying to pretend that he had known the body was there all along and hadn't only just noticed it. "Will that cause a problem?"

He was answered by an unfamiliar voice.

"Well, murder _has_ been known to cause a problem or two, on occasion."

Alec and Magnus whirled around. A man stood behind them, a stormy expression on his wheatish, too-beautiful face. Pointed ears stood out from his long, black hair, and he wore metal armour that seemed to have been wrought into an organic-looking pattern, as if it had grown around him. A seelie knight, Alec realized.

"Fergus," Magnus said, voice carefully neutral. "It’s been a while."

"Magnus," Fergus greeted. He gestured at the dead kelpie with his staff, "It seems that you have harmed a member of the Seelie Court."

"It was in self-defence."

Fergus shook his head, his anger breaking into something that might have been called a smile, if it weren’t so cold.

"Self-defence? Unlikely. You have been named a Friend of the Seelie Court. Why would we knowingly harm you?" he slid his gaze to Alec. "A lone nephilim, on the other hand, openly plotting to trespass onto our land? There's no saying what could happen to someone like _that_."

Magnus’s face went blank, and he carefully rolled to his feet. He and Fergus were similar heights, but the lack of armour made Magnus’s shoulders seem more slender, though Alec could see that they were also far more relaxed.

 _Fergus is wary of him,_ Alec realized. Even soaking wet, Magnus's glare had Fergus practically shrinking back.

"This nephilim is under my protection," Magnus said. "It is unavoidable that we must pass through the Seelie Court's territory on our journey, but as a Friend of the Court, it is my right to escort my charge through your lands."

Fergus shrugged.

"Perhaps, but the fact remains that a seelie was killed on this day. Someone must tell the Queen how her subject lost their life," Fergus sneered, “Since you were the one to kill them, I'm sure you will know better than anyone what happened."

Alec's hand reached for a bow that he was not wearing. Magnus shot him a warning look, then nodded to Fergus.

“Very well,” he said, waving his arm as if to say _lead on_. “Any creature would be honoured to stand before the Seelie Queen. But please, allow me to slip into something more appropriate for such an auspicious meeting.”

There was a now-familiar flash of light, and Magnus was again a fox. His red fur gleamed in the sunlight, bone-dry. Fergus scoffed.

“Few would consider a _fox_ to be an appropriate form in which to meet the Queen,” he said, lip curling, “but I suppose it is more representative of your… _nature_.”

Magnus glanced at Alec, who, with a flash of magic, suddenly found himself dry as well, his clothes not even stiff with salt.

“I’ll be back,” Magnus said to him. He spoke in a whisper, but Fergus must have heard him, because he immediately barked a laugh.

“Unlikely,” Fergus said, gesturing. A strip of yellow light shot out from his hand and wrapped itself around Alec’s wrists, binding them and tugging sharply. Alec's balance threatened to topple, though he managed to catch himself.

Magnus snarled, the fur of his ruff standing on end. “Leave him. _I_ killed the kelpie. He is innocent.”

“Perhaps," Fergus sneered. "But if the death is deemed a murder, an appropriate punishment must be decided. Blood for blood is a common choice, and _his_ blood would do nicely.”

Alec steeled himself. He got his feet beneath him, drawing from his strength and balance runes to do so without his hands, and stood. Magnus stepped forward like he was planning on pushing Alec back down.

“It’s okay, Magnus,” Alec said, not taking his eyes off of Fergus. “I’ll come with you to the Seelie Court.”

Fergus looked delighted.

.o.O.o.

They were escorted through the stone beast’s portal, which let out in a softly-lit forest of twisted trees that had been draped with garlands of flowers and gauzy sheets of fabric. There was a vague, shining haze in the air, like a stubborn mist struck by the morning sun, that Alec had to squint at first. Soon enough, his vision adjusted and he saw the crush of faeries bustling around the court. Countless eyes watched as they were taken to a throne of twisted wood, nearly overgrown with a climbing vine sporting five-petalled pink flowers.

Seated at the throne, wearing a crown woven from lavender and buttercups, was a young girl with scarlet hair and cold blue eyes.

Magnus bowed to the girl as Fergus forced Alec to his knees.

“Your Majesty,” Magnus said, and Alec rushed to bow as well, panicked.

The Seelie Queen's face was as cold and beautiful as the rugged mountains of the East. Lovely from afar, but one always had to be aware that getting too close could lead to a deadly tumble. She smiled at them, a beauty that held no kindness.

"Hello Magnus,” she said, her voice as breathy as a whisper but still somehow clear amongst the trees. “I see your obsession with mortals still has not faded. Pity. I had hoped you would have been cured of such distractions by now."

Magnus lowered his head in a bow so deep that his black nose brushed against the ground.

"Oh, but are distractions not the thing that makes our long lives worth living?" he said. His voice had taken on the same lilting rhythm that the other faeries spoke in. The Seelie Queen laughed, a high, tinkling sound.

"Perhaps," she said, "But a nephilim is a bit much, even for you. If you like, I could simply kill him now. Then you would be free to join my Court."

The tip of Magnus’s tail twitched, but otherwise, he had no outward reaction to her words.

"If I join your court, it will be of my own free will," Magnus nodded in Alec's direction. "As it stands, I'm finding plenty of enjoyment with my mortal distractions."

"Ha!"

Alec suppressed a flinch at the unexpected voice. Beside him, Magnus stiffened.

A woman, plainly non-seelie, stepped out from around the throne. Pale-skinned and dark-haired, she was dressed differently than the Fair Folk, wearing a fine red gown that could have come from Isabelle’s own closet and a necklace that sported an enormous ruby pendant.

The woman approached Alec with a grace and carelessness that made him all the more wary of her, stopping in front of him and giving him a once over. She sneered at him, and Alec could see that her teeth sharpened to the fangs of a vampire.

"He's exactly your type, Magnus," she scoffed. "Tall, dark, handsome… and _look_ at those eyes." A hand shot out, faster than could be seen, and captured Alec's jaw in a stone-cold grip, forcing his face up.

Magnus’s fur bristled.

"Camille," The word came out as a growl. “Let him go.”

Camille pretended not to hear him, though she did release Alec with a little shove. She turned to face Magnus.

"Why? Worried I'll damage your toy?" her mouth curled into a cruel smile. "I bet he _cries_ when you fuck him."

Alec's stomach dropped, but Magnus spoke before he could sputter out any denials.

"I assure you," Magnus gritted out, "The relationship between us is purely professional."

"Oh!" Camille said, voice turning artificially sweet, "Then you found yourself a nephilim whore? How nice. Or maybe _you're_ the whore,” she giggled, a deeply unpleasant sound. “I wouldn't be surprised. You were always awfully willing to spread your legs. Might as well throw a few coins in the mix."

The Seelie Queen finally spoke up.

"Now, Camille," she chided, though a smile hovered around her lips, "That is not necessary. We welcome and honour prostitutes in our Court. Theirs is an old and proud profession."

Alec looked at Magnus with wide eyes, wondering if he should deny the accusations, but Magnus’s fox face was impossible to read.

“Enough with petty words,” Magnus said. “Your Majesty, one of your subjects attempted to drown this nephilim, who is currently under my protection. In his defence, I killed her.”

“Indeed,” said the Seelie Queen. “Quite rude of you, to kill someone who was doing you a favour.”

“A _favour_?” Magnus snapped. “How is trying to _drown_ my companion a favour?”

The Seelie Queen tilted her head, icy blue eyes widening in surprise that Alec suspected was anything but genuine.

“You claim that you have _not_ been enslaved by this nephilim?” she asked, pinning Alec with a glare. “Have you not taken his cursed rune upon your skin?”

Alec shivered, but held her gaze. Magnus's tail swished back and forth along the floor, leaf litter and dirt getting caught in its strands.

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Magnus said. “I have not accepted his rune onto my skin.”

Fergus scoffed, turning to address the court as a whole. “Truly the words of a born liar!” he declared. “Let us _see_ his human skin, stripped bare, and determine for ourselves if the nephilim owns the fox!”

“No!” Magnus said, a note of panic in his voice that had Alec looking towards him in confusion, even as the court began to jeer and hiss the word _liar_ louder and louder. “It’s not—.”

Camille cut him off.

“Enough of this, Magnus!” she said, voice raised to be heard over the din. “I grow tired of your four-legged form, with its secretive expressions. Let us see your _true_ face.”

The crowd cheered their agreement. A growl rose from Magnus, the hair on his back standing on end. For a moment, Alec thought he would lunge at Camille, but then the Queen spoke up.

“Stop,” she commanded, and both Magnus and Camille took a half-step back, though both kept their fangs bared. The Queen looked at them coolly, no longer amused. “Camille, calm yourself. Magnus, return to your true form immediately, or Fergus with rend the nephilim’s head from his shoulders.”

Alec heard the hiss of a sword being drawn from behind him. Magnus whipped his head towards the sound, making as if to lunge towards Alec, but froze. His eyes were wide with panic, but after casting around in futile desperation, he sagged in defeat. The blue glow of transformation began at his forepaws and, with a flash, Magnus knelt before the Queen in his human form. He bowed his head, his dark hair hiding his eyes from view.

“Please, your Majesty,” Magnus said to her feet, “He has done nothing worthy of a death sentence.”

The Queen appraised him coldly and, after a long moment, nodded in Fergus’s direction.

Alec flinched at the sound of a sword cutting through the air, but Fergus was only re-sheathing his blade. Alec’s heart raged like a frightened bird beating its wings against the inside of his ribcage.

Magnus’s shoulders relaxed minutely, but tensed again as Camille stepped towards him.

“There it is,” she purred, grabbing his chin and forcing his face up. “There’s that face I loved for so many years. Whatever happened to us, my heart?”

Magnus kept his eyes downcast, refusing to look at her.

“You betrayed me,” he said, voice steady, “Or have you already forgotten in your old age?”

Camille scoffed, shoving him so that he stumbled back, falling into the dirt to the hoots and laughter of the court.

“You always _were_ a fool,” Camille snarled, “following your dick instead of common sense. Is getting a leg over a nephilim really worth defiling yourself like _this_?”

She grabbed Magnus’s arm as he tried to stand and yanked him towards her with strength beyond her size. Magnus tried to pull away, but Camille moved with impossible speed, hooking a finger around the cuff Magnus wore on his right wrist and ripping it away, leather snapping like spider silk.

A rune was etched on the tender skin of Magnus's wrist.

Someone in the crowd gasped.

Alec stared, positive for a horrified moment that it was one of the cursed runes, like the ones on the wolves, and Racha, and _Izzy_. But after a moment, he realized that the rune on Magnus’s wrist was one that Alec _did_ recognize from the Grey Book, although not one he had ever used.

It was a _Bonded Oath_ rune.

Magnus tore his arm back, covering the rune with his hand, but it was too late. Everyone had seen.

Magnus’s chest was heaving with fury, looking like he might lunge at Camille at any moment, magic blazing. Alec was wondering why he _didn’t_ when he noticed the Queen lean forward in anticipation, her cool expression hinting at eagerness.

 _Ah._ Alec thought. For some reason, they were trying to goad him into a fight.

Luckily, Magnus was able to calm himself with a few deep breaths, though his eyes still burned with anger.

“It is no longer your business how I chose to _defile_ myself, Camille,” he said, face dark with fury. Camille barked a laugh. Her nose was wrinkled, as if this whole situation smelled rancid and she was _delighted_ by it.

“You’re _such_ a bleeding heart, Magnus,” she said, tossing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You’ve always needed to be _owned_.”

For the first time, Magnus flinched at her words. His reaction did not go unnoticed by the Seelie Queen.

“Have we misunderstood, Magnus?” the Queen asked, tilting her head. “Would killing this nephilim not free you from your involuntary servitude?”

It wouldn’t, Alec knew, even if he _had_ been the holder of Magnus’s oath. He didn't doubt that the Seelie Queen knew it too.

Magnus grit his teeth, but his voice was steady when he responded.

“Regardless of whether or not killing my companion would have deactivated the rune, I will not thank you for presuming to know what is best for me. I took the rune _voluntarily,_ and with every intention of following through with my side of the bargain. To try and get out of it now would not only be dishonourable, but also against my express wishes.”

“A bargain?” Camille echoed, something of an incredulous laugh in her voice. “Magnus, tell me you’re _not_ going after the Golden Bird _again_.”

Magnus set his jaw but didn’t answer.

The Queen hummed in interest. “The Golden Bird? Did you promise to _give_ it to the nephilim boy after you use it?” There was a spattering of laughter in the crowd. The Queen let it peter out before continuing. “Nephilim are not known to treat the strange and rare things of this world with the respect they deserve,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “ _You_ know that. So _why_ do you insist upon demeaning yourself like a common servant?”

Magnus’s hand tightened around his wrist. “I am no one’s servant, your Majesty.”

Camille snorted at that.

“Please. We _all_ know that’s a lie,” Camille grinned. “Tell me, Magnus. Is it the fox in you that likes being ordered around, or the man?”

Magnus didn't answer, stone-faced on his knees. This seemed to infuriate Camille, who wound up a fist to strike him. In doing so, she turned her back to Alec fully, and he saw his chance.

He got his feet under him and, his permanent _swiftness_ rune sending electricity through his blood, he lunged.

It felt like colliding with a rock.

His hands were still bound, so he was unable to grab Camille, but he did manage to make her stumble. She spun around, her face a mixture of disbelief and rage.

“You _rat_ ,” she growled, grabbing for him. Alec tensed, ready to kick out at her and his mind scrambling for something, _anything_ he could use as a weapon, even if it was a bit of dirt to throw in her eyes—.

“ _Stop._ ”

Alec and Camille both froze at the Seelie Queen’s command. He could see wisps of green magic curling around them both like a net, ready to come down on them if either made a move.

The Queen scrutinized Alec from her throne. A new tendril of pink flowers bloomed over her shoulder.

“Tell me, nephilim,” she said, “Why have you brought violence to my Court?”

Alec stayed firm against the Seelie Queen’s piercing gaze.

“Magnus Bane is a Friend of the Court,” he said, loud enough for all of the spectators to hear, “And yet, you have not treated him as a friend on this day. What has he done to deserve to be treated with such cruelty?”

Camille snorted. She no longer looked ready to tear his throat out, but she still regarded him with open hostility.

“You have no place to talk, you stupid nephilim,” she said. “You, who defaced his skin and encouraged his delusions of stealing that damn bird, have been the cruellest of us all. We will not let you keep him as your little _pet._ ”

Alec flushed as a few of the Court murmured their agreement.

“He is not my _pet_ ,” Alec said, trying to keep his voice steady. “We are merely… colleagues.”

“Hm,” Camille crossed her arms. “That’s an interesting way of saying he keeps your dick warm.”

Alec tried not to flinch. The Queen watched Alec with interest, one pencil-thin eyebrow cocked.

“Maybe the nephilim is correct,” she said. Camille looked at her with confusion. “Perhaps Magnus _isn’t_ his pet. Perhaps the nephilim is _Magnus’s_.”

The Court’s glares turned to leers. Magnus was looking at Alec with something like horror dawning on his face.

“No!” Magnus said, pressing his forehead to the ground in a deep bow. “Please, your majesty, I beg of you—.”

“Interesting,” the Queen interrupted, her smile razor-sharp. “We may have stumbled upon the truth of the matter! It seems the fox has found himself a _pet nephilim_. How… perverse.”

The Queen twirled a finger. Sparks shot from it, zipping through the air towards Alec and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Alec flinched when the sparks touched the hollow of his throat, but it only left behind a tingling warmth as it encircled his neck. She grasped the smoke like a rope and pulled it taut, and in her hand, it consolidated into a leather strap.

Alec was yanked forward, and he stumbled to stay on his feet. He didn't need to raise his hand and feel the tags hanging from his throat to know that he had just been collared.

The whole court broke into cruel laughter. Camille looked delighted.

“Oh!” Camille curtsied to the Queen. “If it pleases you, your majesty, may I do the honour?”

The Queen lounged back in her chair.

“Very well,” she said, nodding at Alec. “This shall be the price for the life you took, Magnus Bane. Quite the merciful sentence, all things considered.”

“ _No_ ,” Magnus said, eyes wild. “ _Please_ , your Majesty, there’s no need for this.”

“I have made my decision,” the Queen said. “Camille, if you please.”

Camille’s expression turned considering, and Alec forced himself not to flinch at she leaned towards him. “You’re an odd choice in pet, I’ll admit. But Magnus’s tastes _have_ become more… undignified over time. I shouldn’t be surprised that he has chosen to favour a nephilim _rat._ ”

The ruby pendant began to glow, red light creeping down Camille’s arm towards her palm. Behind her, Magnus’s face went from confusion, to understanding, to horror within the span of a second.

“No!” he cried, lunging towards her, but Camille had already slapped her hand down onto Alec’s forehead.

Alec barely had time to think ‘ _oh, what now?’_ when, with a swooping in his stomach like he was falling from very high up, he fell unconscious.

Alec awoke without really waking. The world felt like a dream as he opened his eyes, spread out in front of him in shades of blue, green, and grey. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a small, high-pitched noise.

From far off, there was a sound. High, piercing, and repetitive.

“Yes, yes,” a voice growled, very close to Alec’s ear, “Laugh all you want, you bitch.”

Alec knew that voice. He inhaled, and a familiar scent washed over him. The voice said something else, but Alec was no longer paying attention. He buried his face into the soft material he was pressed against. It was smooth, and warm, and when Alec listened carefully, he could hear a faint _buh-thump, buh-thump, buh-thump_ that made his fear settle down.

He was being held against the smooth, warm thumps by something slightly rough and a little bit wiggly. It tightened around him, and Alec felt a small uptick of panic, but he breathed in, and the scent of the _buh-thumps_ calmed him again.

Several figures were looming around him, and after a moment he realized that something was happening. From the furious noises they were making at each other, he suspected that they were having an argument, but he could only hear the voice that was very close to his ear, and even then he only caught what was said as long as he wasn’t distracted by the softness and warmth and _buh-thump_ ing.

“—ease let us leave,” the voice said. Alec heard another one of the figures say something back, their voice soft and very, very cold. He looked up, but the figures were just blurred blobs around him.

Alec realized the voice near his ear was speaking again, and he turned his attention back to the sounds it made.

“—the debt of a good deed,” the voice was saying. “Which is something _you_ of all people should understand, your majesty.”

A grey blur moved suddenly, and Alec flinched, ducking his head back into the soft material with a distressed sound, squeezing his eyes shut. The rough, wiggly things, which Alec suspected might be something alive, cupped him against the softness more firmly. The voice was speaking again, louder, _angrier_ , but Alec was too busy trying to stop shaking. He took a few deep breaths, inhaling the pleasant scent until the trembling subsided.

Alec felt a swooping sensation, and for a moment he wondered if he would fall unconscious again, but when he opened his eyes not much had changed, except that the looming shapes weren’t quite so loom-y anymore. The rough, wiggly things tightened around him again, and with another gut-swooping motion that made the sky spin, Alec was taken away from the figures. The wiggly things tightened a little bit, and Alec recognized vaguely that the _buh-thump_ was slowing as the soft warmth took on a bouncing rhythm, like riding on a horse. Alec let his mind lull with the canter and did not think anymore.

Alec woke up, truly this time, to find lips pressed against his own.

He pushed the other person away with a shout, scrambling backwards as spots of purple, blue, and green danced in his vision. He couldn't focus on the figure kneeling in front of him, but his hands fell on what felt like the fabric of a blanket, and he quickly yanked it in front of himself.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, and flinched violently when a voice spoke up, closer than he expected.

"Alexander," Magnus said, sounding deeply tired.

Alec squinted at the figure, trying to make out their features. All he could tell for certain was that they had dark hair.

"Magnus?" Alec asked. "Did-did you just—," he couldn't bring himself to say the words ' _kiss me'_.

Magnus sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding like he meant it. "It was the only way to break the spell. She... she thought it would be _funny_."

Alec's vision began to clear, the spots shrinking and clearing away as he stared at Magnus. As his face began to come into focus, Alec thought for a moment his vision must still be faulty. Magnus looked pale and drawn, with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, which looked as though he might have been crying. Alec reached out a hand, fingers landing on Magnus’s cheek.

“What happened?” Alec said, his throat rasping dryly. Magnus flinched at the sound

“Oh, dear,” Magnus said, pulling away. “That voice doesn’t sound very comfortable. Let me get you some water.”

Alec knew an evasion when he heard one, but water sounded nice right then, so he didn’t argue. Magnus returned with Alec’s waterskin, and he barely had time to wonder why Magnus didn’t just magic his usual canteen out of thin air before he was trying to gulp down its contents. Magnus pulled it away before Alec could get more than a few swallows, and Alec made a noise of outrage around his mouthful.

"None of that," Magnus scolded. "You'll make yourself sick if you drink it all at once. Now _sip_."

Alec grumbled but obeyed, taking the water a sip at a time.

"Magnus," he said once his throat felt less like gravel. Magnus wasn't looking at him, struggling to re-seal the waterskin. Alec reached out and covered Magnus’s hands with his own. He could feel him trembling.

"How... What happened?" Alec asked.

“I—,” Magnus kept his eyes down, flicking a finger so that the waterskin closed with a blink of blue light. “I’m not—that is, I didn’t know, didn’t _realize_ that the necklace—.” Magnus paused, finally lifting his head. His eyes were shiny with tears. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And the—breaking the spell wasn't—. Are you—Are you _okay_?”

Alec had to do a quick self-evaluation.

“I’m fine,” he announced after he detected nothing wrong.

Magnus stared at him. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Alec quickly backpedalled. “Wha—I’m fine, honest! I don't even really _remember_ —.”

Magnus cut him off with a sob, throwing his arms around him and squeezing just shy of too tight. Alec returned the hug, dumbfounded. He felt more tears drop onto his back.

"Alexander," Magnus whispered, voice breaking, " _Alexander_."

Alec rubbed circles into Magnus's back.

"Shhh," he soothed. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. You did it, Magnus. You saved me."

Magnus made a noise that might have been a laugh, a sob, or a combination of the two. He pulled himself out of Alec's embrace, furiously rubbing the tears away. Alec kept his hands against Magnus’s waist. He sniffed, glaring at Alec through puffy eyes. His eyeliner was smudged beyond repair.

“Why the _hell_ would you attack Camille like that?” Magnus asked, jabbing Alec’s chest with a finger. “Do you have a _death wish_?”

Alec grimaced. “Ah. That,” he scrambled to find a reason, fingers tightening against Magnus’s waist. “I just… I’ve seen dynamics like that before, at the palace. I suppose nephilim courts and seelie courts aren’t so different from one another when it comes down to it. They wanted someone to pick on, and it seemed like your hands were tied, what with your position as a Friend of the Court, and I…well, I’m an outsider and I can fight back. I figured I could stand to take a little of the heat off of you.”

Of course, Alec hadn’t really thought of that in the moment. Mostly, all he had wanted was for them to _stop,_ to _leave him alone_. But in hindsight, it was true enough.

Magnus stared at Alec incredulously for a moment, mouth hanging open, before he groaned and let his face fall against Alec’s shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” he said into the fabric, breath hitching in muffled sobs, and then, more quietly: “ _I’m_ an idiot.”

Alec’s hand went to the back of Magnus’s head, stroking his hair. “No, I’m pretty sure this one’s all on me.”

Magnus looked up to scowl at him, tears sticking to his eyelashes like little diamonds. "I don’t disagree, but I was more referring to the decisions I made in the past. It’s _my_ fault that Camille did what she did." Another sob ripped through Magnus, though this time he did his best to muffle it with his hand. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t cry.”

“Magnus, look at me,” Alec said. Magnus dragged his gaze up to meet his. “You have nothing to apologize for. Camille is responsible for her own actions.”

Magnus shook his head.

“No, you don’t understand,” he said. “ _I_ gave her the means to hurt you.”

Involuntarily, Alec felt a stab of betrayal. Magnus flinched at whatever Alec’s face was doing, and Alec did his best to force the feeling down.

“What do you mean?” Alec asked carefully. Magnus was biting his lip.

“She and I… We…That is—,” he cleared his throat. “We were lovers. Back before she was a vampire. When she was… mortal. I’m the one who made that ruby pendant.”

Alec remembered the necklace Camille had been wearing in the Seelie Court. Magnus continued, speaking very quickly.

“She got sick, and I… I was distraught, because she was so _young_ , and I thought we would have _years,_ but she was dying, and I thought, I thought if I just had a little more _time_ I could find a way to fix it, to fix _her_ , and we could have those years,” Magnus hiccupped, wiping away tears with his sleeve. “S-so, I poured my magic into that ruby, to stop the progression of the disease for just a little longer while I found a way to _fix_ it.”

“The Panacea book,” Alec realized. Magnus nodded.

“The Panacea book,” he agreed. “The fruit of my desperate efforts to save a woman I loved, who I’m not even sure ever really loved me back,” he bowed his head. “I only ever put a small amount of magic in the pendant. My intention was that she would come and ask me for more whenever she needed. I assumed, after she became a vampire and we parted ways, that she would run out soon after. I didn’t think that she would save it for all these years, much less figure out how to _use_ it…”

"Ok," Alec said, reaching out to hold Magnus’s hands, "Is there water nearby?"

Magnus blinked at him, sniffling as his tears subsided.

"There’s a river that way," Magnus said, indicating the direction with a nod. Alec stood, pulling Magnus with him, who looked startled, "Wha— Alexander?"

"Come on," Alec said. "We’re going to get cleaned up."

Magnus stared at him, shaking his head slightly.

"Y-you know I have magic for that, right?" He said, perplexed. Alec shrugged.

"Maybe, but sometimes it's not about getting clean so much as it's about washing up, you know?" Alec wasn't positive that he was making sense, but Magnus looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding.

"You know what?" He said. "You're absolutely right."

He allowed Alec to lead the way, their hands still clasped.

The river was clear, fast-flowing, and looked awfully cold. Magnus conjured up a large bucket, filled it from the river, and then waved a hand over it with a muttered spell. There was a spark of magic, and suddenly the water was steaming. Magnus conjured a washcloth and dropped it into the bucket.

“Here,” he said, smiling at Alec wobblily. “This way, you can wash up without pesky kelpies making things hard.”

That hadn’t actually occurred to Alec, but now that Magnus brought it up, the idea of water fae lurking in the river _did_ make him a bit uncomfortable. He took the cloth and immediately sat down on the riverbank, indicating for Magnus to join him. Reluctantly, he put the bucket down and sat beside him.

Alec lifted the cloth to Magnus’s face, and although Magnus flinched slightly at the first touch, he allowed him to wipe away the dried tears and smudged makeup in slow, careful strokes.

Alec finished cleaning Magnus’s face quickly, but he still didn’t feel _done_. The rhythmic motion and warm water soothed even Alec, and when he pressed the cloth against the side of Magnus’s neck, where he could see the sticky sheen of dried sweat, Magnus’s eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his shoulders unwinding as he tilted his head to the side.

Alec wet his lips. 

_He kissed_ me, he thought, dipping the cloth in the bucket and wringing it out. _He kissed me, and I hardly remember it at all._

He ran the cloth down one side of Magnus’s neck, then the other. When he reached the neckline of his shirt, Magnus wordlessly untied the laces, letting the fabric fall open to reveal more of his skin, collarbones and shoulders on full display.

It felt dangerous. It felt _thrilling_. Magnus looked utterly debauched like this, hair mussed and shirt hanging off of him, and as he reached down to peel his shirt up over his head, Alec’s heart roared in his ears, his lungs stuttering with the anticipation of more skin being revealed, more skin that he could _touch_ , and—

The shirt caught on the leather cuff. They both froze.

Magnus vanished the shirt, tucking his wrist against his chest as though he might hide it. His pupils were nearly invisible slits in a sea of gold.

Alec held his gaze as he reached out and took Magnus’s hand, pulling it away from his chest to cradle it in his lap. Magnus didn’t resist, although he braced as if expecting a blow. But Alec simply took the cloth, skipping over the bracelet, and wiped off the back of Magnus’s hand. He plunged the rag in the water again, swishing it around for good measure, when he finally spoke.

"She said she wanted to see your true face," Alec said, cleaning between each of Magnus’s fingers. “Camille did, I mean.”

Magnus released his breath in a rush, obediently turning his hand over to Alec’s ministrations.

"I can't say I blame her," Magnus said in a quavering voice, "I am _quite_ handsome in this form."

"But you’re a fox," Alec said, frowning, "A shapeshifter. I thought the fox _was_ your true form."

"It is," Magnus said absently as Alec switched to his other hand. "But this is my other true form."

Alec furrowed his brow at that, pausing to squint at him. Magnus didn’t seem to notice at first, eyes unfocused for a long moment before he blinked back to attention, apparently catching Alec’s expression.

"What?" Magnus asked defensively.

"Nothing," Alec said. "I just didn't realize a person could have two true forms."

"Well, only if they have two souls."

That did _not_ clear things up as well as Magnus may have hoped. Alec's confusion must have shown on his face because Magnus sighed, taking the cloth from him and dropping it back into the bucket with a _splash._

"Look," he said, "It’s simple: I have one soul from the fox and one soul from the man. Two souls in total, and therefore two true forms."

Alec was taken aback. He’d never heard _that_ bedtime story about fox fae before.

"Were you... _born_ with two souls?"

"What? No, of course not, that would be ridiculous."

Alec personally thought that Magnus had no business calling _anything_ ridiculous. He was a shapeshifting fox with colourful magic, an obsolescent rune he’d kept hidden, and, apparently, _two souls_.

Magnus sighed.

"It's hard to explain,” he said, wrinkling his nose, “but basically: I was once a fox, and I was once a person, and now I am both."

Magnus looked as though he expected Alec to suddenly understand from _that_ explanation. When Alec didn’t immediately start nodding and saying ‘oh, of course’, Magnus slumped slightly, dropping the cloth in the bucket again.

“Urg. This is more trouble than it’s worth,” Magnus muttered, and then, louder, “How about I just _show_ you what I mean?"

He reached up and placed a hand on Alec’s forehead.

Alec blinked, and suddenly he was looking up at a giant fox.

It was different from Magnus’s fox form, with much darker fur along its muzzle and a small nick in its ear. It leaned forward and licked him, and its tongue was almost as large as his whole body. Alec yipped in displeasure, and then watched in amazement as, without any conscious effort, he twisted to roll away from the giant fox, coming up on four paws and shaking himself dry. He looked up to see the giant fox looking at him with something like exasperated fondness, five dark grey kits huddled up next to her.

 _Mother_ , his mind helpfully supplied.

Again, completely involuntarily, he began to approach the family of foxes, a sense of safety and contentment in the back of his awareness. Alec settled amongst what he knew were his siblings, and he realized what was happening as he began to jostle playfully with another kit.

These were Magnus’s memories as a fox. He was seeing them from the perspective of Magnus, and he had no real control over any of the events because, of course, they had already happened. He watched with a detached curiosity as the him that was really the fox settled down to sleep.

The scene changed, shapes melting away and reforming like ink running down a page in the rain. This time, Alec-the-fox was crouched in some brush, his attention fixed on a mouse that was nosing through the leaf litter for worms and other tasty morsels. He was rapt on his prey, conscious of every twitch of its whiskers and shift of its weight, and slowly, slowly, he watched as it turned its back to him, placing him securely in its blind spot.

The fox pounced, slamming his paws down on the mouse with all of his weight behind it. It shrieked, but quickly fell still. Just to be certain that it was really dead, he grabbed it between his teeth and shook it _hard_ , then swallowed it down with two quick bites.

He licked his jowls happily, but quickly perked his ears when he heard the patter of a second mouse’s feet. A single mouse was a good snack, but it was hardly enough on its own; his day of hunting was far from over.

He followed the sound across a small creek, stepping on the dry stones that poked up from the water to avoid getting his feet wet, and carefully stalked his prey. Unfortunately, the mouse was downwind. It quickly caught his scent and darted into a burrow before he could pounce.

The fox huffed in annoyance, breaking out of his hunting posture to look around himself for another trail to follow. He picked a direction that would keep him within his territory and headed that way, ears perked for any sound. He was keenly tuned into the motions of the forest, which is why it was such a shock when he walked around a big oak tree and came face-to-face with a humongous creature that he had never encountered before.

It was many times taller than him and stood on its hind legs, with a body that was mostly black and smooth, like a rat snake’s scales. Most strangely, its face and arms were naked and pink, the arms dotted with funny black spots and the head topped with a patch of whitish-brown fur. The fox was unsure of what to make of the odd creature, and so, like any smart fox, he began to back away, hoping he hadn’t yet been noticed.

But it was too late for that. The creature had already fixed the fox in its gaze.

“Disgusting animal,” the creature said. The fox didn’t understand the words, but Alec, watching from the fox's eyes, understood them perfectly. The creature bared its teeth at the fox, making a quick, repetitive sound that Alec heard as laughter.

Alec tensed, unable to do anything as the man pulled out an already-bloodied seraph blade and, not even bothering to activate it, slashed downwards.

The fox was not fast enough to avoid the cutting adamas. He shrieked in pain, scrambling back as the sword came down a second time, edge glinting in red. His legs collapsed under him with a high-pitched whimper of pain, and he was left crumpled on the ground and staring up at the strange creature with acute fear. The creature met his gaze and, baring its teeth again, put away the bloody blade. Then it turned and walked away, a cheerful skip to its step that made the fox want to growl.

The creature disappeared around the oak tree, and the fox’s fear quickly overtook his anger. He was out in the open, where any passing predator might stumble upon and make a meal out of him. He didn’t know whether or not the injuries he had sustained would be lethal (though he suspected they were), but his instincts screamed for him to seek shelter and hide until he was either dead or healed. He spotted a thicket of juniper bushes up ahead, low-lying and prickly, and weakly begin to push himself along with his hind legs towards the bushes.

He broke through the branches only to immediately come face-to-face with another one of the odd creatures. This one was not standing on its two hind legs but was instead sprawled out on its back amongst the leaves and acorns. Unlike the black-bodied creature from before, this one was a deep, bright blue, like the jays that sometimes cackled at the fox from the trees, and instead of whitish fur on top of its head, it had black fur. There was blood on the ground, the smell suddenly potent, even to the fox’s pained senses, and for a moment he thought the creature was dead. But then it opened its eyes and turned its head to look at him.

The fox flinched back, but he was too weak to flee. The creature blinked at the fox, and he took comfort from the fact that its eyes were a deep yellow-gold, a common hue for his kin.

“Hello, little one,” the creature said. “Well. Look at those eyes. Big and gold and lovely. Why, I think you may have eyes just like mine.” Again, the fox did not know what the noises it made meant, but Alec knew their meaning immediately, and he knew the voice that spoke them.

The creature exhaled heavily, making a small noise of pain. It seemed to have a wound in its side, and the fox relaxed marginally. Perhaps the fox would not be the odd creature’s meal on this day. They were just two injured animals, dying in the forest. The creature coughed weakly, still looking at him with soft, fox-like eyes.

“Look at us,” it said, voice trembling. “We’re both a mess, aren’t we? I’d say that, between the two of us, we just might make one functional living thing.”

The pain in the fox’s side flared, and it whimpered. The creature shook its head as if the fox had spoken.

“No, no,” it said, looking up at the canopy, “I couldn’t do that. You would hate being bound to an old warlock like me for the rest of eternity. Not to mention that I don’t even know if it would _work._ ”

The creature was being very loud. Any moment now, its noise would alert nearby scavengers to their predicament. The fox did not like that, and he made a low growl of warning in the back of his throat.

“True,” the creature said, nodding sagely, “Living _is_ better than dying. _I_ think so, at least. And a small chance at life is better than a one hundred percent chance of death. What do you say? Should I give it a go?”

The creature pulled up a forelimb and stretched it out towards the fox. Curious despite himself, the fox leaned forward to sniff at the creature’s palm. It smelled like blood and wintergreen.

“Excellent,” the creature said, baring its teeth at the fox, “I guess we have ourselves a deal.”

A blue light appeared in the creature’s palm, making the fox flinch back in alarm, but whatever the creature was doing had already been done. The light stuck to the tip of the fox’s nose and began to spread, even as the fox tried to swipe it away with a paw. In moments, the blue light seemed to engulf the whole world, making the fox squeeze its eyes shut to block out the painful brightness, and, a moment later, opened them to find that the creature was gone and that the fox was no longer in pain.

“Well,” the fox said aloud, knowing the meaning of the words he spoke and knowing his name was Magnus Bane, “That worked out much better than expected!”

Magnus stretched out the legs of his new, four-legged form, and found the action to be surprisingly familiar. He had expected some difficulties with coordination, at least in the beginning, but as he began to trot away from the two empty patches of blood-soaked ground, he felt the fox inside of him thrill with the excitement of being uninjured and pain-free. The emotions overtook him for a moment, and he began to hop about, tail high, before he regained control. He shook himself off, trying to clear his thoughts, before turning and heading in a direction where he knew he’d find some friends.

Alec blinked hard, the vision of being a fox fading like spots in his vision after looking at the sun. Magnus watched him carefully. When Alec failed to say anything after a long stretch, Magnus sighed.

“I have two souls,” he said, “One from the fox, and one from the man. The line between where Magnus the man ends and Magnus the fox begins has grown blurry over the years, but they remain two distinct souls.”

Alec managed to find his voice.

“Ah,” he said. He put a hand to his forehead, trying to soothe his churning thoughts. “So, wait. Before the two of you merged, the you that was a man…”

“Was a warlock,” Magnus confirmed.

“Ah,” Alec said again. He tried to reconcile what he knew of warlocks with the man before him. “So… what are you now then?”

Magnus chuckled.

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. My magic changed a lot after that. Became more fae-like, but also not like the fae at all. I have the pointed ears, but I can still lie. My magic is now entangled with the power of the forest, but it’s still infernal at its core. I’ve never heard of anyone else like me, and I may be the first.”

Alec hummed, looking at Magnus carefully.

“But the Seelie Queen wants you to join her court.”

Magnus scoffed. “The Seelie Queen wants me to join her _collection_. She likes rare and unusual things. But I’ve spent some time with the Courts of Faerie, and they’re too… _cold_ for my tastes. I’d rather be on my own than subject myself to their cruelties.”

“On your own? But, what about the warlocks?”

“Hm. What about them indeed,” Magnus looked up at the sky, which peeked through the break in the trees opened up by the river. “I have a handful of old friends from… before. But, in an official capacity, I’m no longer recognized as a warlock. A shame, too. I wanted to run for the position of High Warlock one of these days.” He smiled, but it was a cold, brittle thing. “I stayed with a pack of werewolves for a while, but something in my fox instincts is… disquieted by the presence of wolves. Same with vampires. I can visit, especially as a man, but the fox grows restless when I keep it contained.”

The loneliness in Magnus’s expression was raw. Alec wanted to wipe it away, but he didn’t think a washcloth and some water would do it.

“Where does the fox go, when it’s contained?” Alec asked instead.

Magnus grinned tiredly.

“Right here,” Magnus said, flourishing a hand as if presenting himself on a stage. “He is I and I am he. We aren’t really separate anymore; he became more like a man, and I became more like a fox, and we are now one and the same, more or less. You didn’t know me before, but my friends said my personality changed after I merged with the fox. Subtle things, but still noticeable. At the very least, I now spend most of my free time in my fox form, which I never had the urge to do before, despite always being _technically_ able to shapeshift.”

“I see,” Alec said. “You’re saying that some of what you do, in either form, is the from the fox, and some of it is from the man?”

Magnus shrugged. “It blurs together. The important bits are constant. My emotions are just… closer to the surface? I’m terrible at hiding what I’m feeling, or repressing impulses now. Foxes don’t need to hide emotions. If they want to do something, they do it, without worrying about what others might think. Combine that with the human need for closeness…” he grimaced. “If I’m ever too touchy-feely with you, that’s probably why. I forget, sometimes, that it’s impolite. I just… when I crave touch, and you are within reach… You don’t have to feel bad for pushing me away. I understand.”

Alec took Magnus’s hand in two of his. Magnus looked at him in surprise.

“You can touch me as much as you like, Magnus.”

Alec heard a small inhale of surprise, followed by a whispered laugh.

“Oh, darling angel,” Magnus said, smiling sadly. “Don’t say that. I might actually listen, and you have no _idea_ how much I’d like to touch you.”

 _But I_ want _you to touch me._

He didn’t voice the thought, but the finality Alec felt just from thinking the words surprised him. He thought it again, just as a test: _I want you to touch me._ His heart didn’t twist with shame. Instead, it settled with a warmth, as if to say _Ah, yes. So, this is it, then._

Alec cleared his throat, cheeks flushing under Magnus’s careful eyes.

The shame wasn’t twisting his insides anymore, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few things they had to talk about before that train of thought could be allowed to go any further. He pulled Magnus’s hand towards him, brushing his fingers over the leather cuff.

“Magnus,” Alec said. “We need—we need to talk about the rune.”

Magnus’s smile fell, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but only silent air came out.

Alec grimaced in sympathy. “Don’t force yourself. I'm familiar with the concept of the _bonded oath_ rune, even if I've never used it before.”

That was for good reason, too. Wars had been fought between downworlder and nephilim kingdoms over the _bonded oath_ rune.

It was one of the few runes that would take on downworlder skin. It bound them to an oath, theoretically to be released after the completion of some task. In practice, however, they tended to be left on a little longer than that. In the past, the rune had often been used to entrap downworlders as servants or slaves for much of their long lives, unequal oaths taken by young downworlders who didn’t know any better, or else offered as a way to escape death sentences for crimes that were seldom committed. Because the oath bound the downworlder to a nephilim’s energy, rather than their soul, it could long outlast the oath holder’s life. It wasn’t so long ago that many nephilim families had a bonded warlock for _generations_.

There had been something not unlike a slave market of downworlders in the Idris Empire until the High King of Idris had passed a slew of laws banning the practice in order to appease the negotiations of peace treaties that ended the wars. There had been fierce enforcement of those laws, and thanks to that, the rune had largely fallen out of use.

But they still learned about it, and because of that Alec knew that a common clause in a _bonded oath_ rune was a promise of silence. In extreme cases, the marked downworlders were left completely mute, unable to even write to communicate. More commonly, however, they were only forbidden from speaking of certain topics, and if they tried it could lead to a not-insignificant amount of pain. Alec had never seen an oath of silence in action, but he suspected that it looked a bit like chocking on nothing.

“Okay,” Alec said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to ask a few test questions, to see how far the oath goes. It’s going to be difficult, but if it’s too much, _please_ don’t push yourself. Squeeze my hand if you want to stop. Are you alright with that?”

Magnus visibly hesitated, biting his lip, but nodded. Alec thought for a long moment.

“Is this what you showed Luke, after the ostei demons?” he asked.

“Yes,” Magnus said quickly, like he was worried the word would be snatched from him if he weren’t fast enough getting it out.

“Okay,” Alec said, trying to think of another question that would be distant enough. “When did you take the oath?”

Magnus opened his mouth and let out a quiet wheeze, his arm spasming slightly. Alec quickly backpaddled.

“Never mind!” he said. Magnus relaxed slightly, taking a deep breath. He tried to smile at Alec, but it came out as a grimace.

“Is…,” Alec started, wracking his brain for a trick, a loophole, _anything_ from the histories. “Is there _anything_ you can say about it?”

Magnus’s face screwed up in concentration. He opened and closed his mouth several times, inhaling like he was preparing to speak but chocking before he could turn the breath into words. His whole chest heaved with the effort. He tried this a few times, expression growing more and more frustrated as he went, until, finally, something made it through.

“It won’t hurt you,” Magnus said at last. He looked surprised, hand snapping to his throat as if to reassure himself that it had really been _him_ who had spoken. He swallowed a few times and then, hesitantly, continued. “Directly or indirectly, I won’t hurt you or any of the people you care about. You don’t need to worry about the—,” he choked, coughing a few times. “Damn it,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” Alec said quickly, “That’s enough. You don’t have to keep going, Magnus. That’s all that’s important.”

Magnus straightened, looking at Alec with eyes full of regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I just… I can’t. Even without the—” he coughed slightly. “—It’s not my place to say, not my secrets to tell. You just have to trust me, despite the circumstances.”

Alec reached up and brushed away the lonely tear that had been marking a path down Magnus’s cheek.

“I trust you,” Alec said, closing his eyes and tipping forward so their foreheads pressed together. “I trust you, Magnus.”

Magnus breathed a laugh. “I don’t know why. It’s unwise to trust a fox you’ve only known a few days.”

Alec pulled back to look into Magnus’s face. Magnus watched him with teary gold eyes as Alec smiled.

“Then, let me be unwise.”

Magnus’s breath caught. His eyes darted down to Alec’s lips and back up again.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Then I think it’s time I showed you something you’ll need to catch the Golden Bird.”

.o.O.o.

Underhill watched one of the royal stable’s grooms struggle to lead the new horse to the bullpen. He had been informed of the difficulties the stables had had in their attempts to break in the animal, and he could see that the stories had _not_ been exaggerated. The animal yanked and pulled against the groom’s urging, gnawing the bit furiously. It was a miracle that they had gotten the bridle onto it without losing a finger, if the stable boy was to be believed.

“Well?” The stablemaster asked. “What do you think?”

Underhill grimaced. There was a disagreement within the stable staff, it seemed: some believed the animal could be a valuable warhorse, but only if it were first gelded. The rest wanted to keep it a stallion in the hopes of breeding some better-tempered animals. Few were hopeful that the beast could be tamed as it was.

Somehow, _Underhill_ had been left to make the final decision. He sighed, drumming his fingers against his arm as he watched the groom struggle to pull the horse the final few feet into the pen.

Frankly, they didn’t _need_ another stallion, and Underhill was doubtful that the horse would even be tameable as a gelding. If it were up to him, they would have already sold the beast, but, as it was, they were stuck with it. At least as a gelding, it might be less of a menace to the stable staff…

The groom finally managed to drag the horse into the pen, and had already dropped the lounge in relief, though the stable boy hadn’t yet finished fastening the gate.

“Geld it,” Underhill said.

The horse screamed and kicked the gate open, barely missing the stable boy in the process. It ran into the yard, nimbly avoiding the stable staff that tried to corral it, and it made a beeline for the forest. It broke free from the yard, leaping over the low fence and into the open pastures, hooves flying over the grass without seeming to touch it. In seconds, it had disappeared into the forest at the edge of the field.

Underhill reluctantly ordered the stablemaster to track down the animal and drag it back to the royal stables, no small part of him hoping it wouldn’t be found.

Perhaps luckily, the trackers did not find the golden stallion. They reported to Underhill that they had followed its trail only a short distance before it ended at a ring of bright red, white-spotted mushrooms. Underhill quickly left to inform the King and Queen. No one was sure what to think of the Fair Folk stealing their horse, especially since the seelies hadn’t had dealings with them for decades, but in the end, the decision was made to write off the stallion as lost.

Underhill suspected that the stablemaster was secretly relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN THIS HOUSE WE HAVE RESPECT FOR SEX WORKERS. Camille is a bad person who is bad, and I hope that I am as little like her as possible.  
> Bonded Oath rune is something I made up because fanfiction ;)  
> Yes, Alec was turned into a rat. Fun fact about rats: they have terrible eyesight!  
> ((fun lil’ rant on rat eyesight science. Feel free to skip to double closed brackets:  
> Rats evolved in dark, dimly lit places, so their visual needs are a bit limited. They can technically tell some colours apart, but not in a super meaningful way (blues, greens, and a bit of ultraviolet have _noticeable_ differences to them, but are not really _meaningfully_ different, which is a hard concept to explain. We won’t know what the subjective experience is like until humans master shapeshifting ;D ). If you think about life as a rat, small visual differences don’t really… matter. Humans are very vision-centred creatures, but rats are more reliant on things like smell, touch, and hearing, and when it comes to visually detecting predators, being able to sense light/dark & general shapes and movements are the important bits. ))  
> Plants & symbolism:  
> \- Dog rose: pleasure and pain (the 5-petaled pink flowers on the Queen’s throne)  
> \- Lavender: distrust  
> \- Buttercup: ingratitude; charming  
> \- Oak: bravery; strength; marks entrances to sacred/ magical places  
> \- acorn: immortality  
> \- Juniper: support; aid  
> \- wintergreen: calming; soothing; harmony
> 
> I was lazy with my final edit, so I'll probably edit it a bit later


	8. The Book of Places

**_Chapter 8: The Book of Places_ **

_“You do not have to be good._  
 _You do not have to walk on your knees_  
 _For a hundred miles through the desert,_ _repenting._  
 _You only have to let the soft animal of_ _your body_  
 _love what it loves.”_  
– Mary Oliver, _Wild Geese_

Magnus sat across from Alec with the Panacea book on his lap, nervously fiddling with one of the corners. Earlier, he had changed his clothes with a snap of his fingers, and he was now wearing a soft green tunic with little glass beads sewn around the collar. Alec noticed that the long, loose sleeves covered Magnus’s cuff bracelet.

Magnus cleared his throat, eyes downcast.

“The Red King is not a kind man. He is jealous, and vengeful, and takes delight from cruelty. If he catches you trying to steal the Golden Bird, he will not be merciful,” he touched his chest, the memory of pain flashing across his face. “I learned that the first time I tried to steal it, centuries ago. I only survived because a hapless fox happened to stumble up to me.”

“Centuries ago?” Alec echoed, frowning. “But—.”

“Tell me, Alexander,” Magnus interrupted. “If you had the Golden Bird roosting in your palace’s garden each night, what would you do with it?”

Alec considered the question.

“I suppose… I would use it to heal my people,” he said. “Those who needed it.”

Magnus nodded. “Exactly. Because you are _kind,_ you would use such power for good. You could heal thousands every day. Countless lives could be saved. Epidemics averted. Yet, the Red King keeps the Golden Bird hidden in his garden, from which only strangled whispers are allowed to escape into the world. Do you know why he does this?”

Alec suspected it had something to do with greed and general assholery, but he didn’t think that was the answer Magnus was looking for, so he shook his head.

“Consider what would happen, Alexander,” Magnus leaned forward, “if every illness, every wound, every malady to ever afflict a man were cured in an instant. If the slow degradation of age were halted by a song heard each day, how long might a man live?”

Realization dawned on Alec.

“Forever,” Alec whispered, horrified. “If circumstances allowed, one might live… _forever_.”

Magnus inclined his head. “Exactly. The man who now goes by the name King Valentine has ruled Vorios as the Red King for hundreds of years.”

“Holy shit,” Alec said. Nephilim were not typically a long-lived race, Silent Brothers excepted; many were killed in demon hunts at tragically young ages, and problems of succession were not uncommon. If High King Herondale knew that such a thing could be achieved with a single _bird_ —.

Magnus sighed. “Immortality is an alluring prize, and the Red King is paranoid that armies may march on him if they knew he held such a prize,” he breathed a laugh, knuckles turning white as he gripped the Panacea book harder. “Perhaps his paranoia is justified. Regardless, he has hidden away from the world, presenting a false succession to avoid suspicion built his power and hoarded his good fortunes.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Alec said again.

“Indeed,” Magnus grinned wickedly. “ _I_ figure it’s high time that bird was taken from right under his nose.”

“But… the tree,” Alec said. “He controls the pear tree. If the bird returns to the tree each night, then as long as it grows in the Red King’s garden, we can never steal the bird from him for more than a day.”

Magnus nodded. “Which is precisely why we’ll need _this_ ” he tapped on the cover of the Panacea book.

Alec wasn’t sure how a hand-written book with (frankly) next to no useful information was supposed to help them, but he could see that Magnus was nervous about _something_ , so he held his tongue.

Magnus bit his lip, running his fingernail along the edge of the book’s cover.

“Alexander,” he said at last. “I need you to understand, what I’m about to show you… you can never tell _anyone_. Do you understand? I am putting a great deal of trust in you. For my sake, I need you to keep this a secret.”

Alec wasn’t sure what to say to that, except, “I promise.”

Magnus closed his eyes and nodded once, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

“Alright,” he said, and then he opened the book and turned it inside-out.

“Wha—,” Alec stared. Where the thin, yellowed journal had sat was now a large tome nearly ten times as thick, a calfskin cover dyed deep purple with polished bronze rivets along its edge. As he watched, Magnus did it _again_ , and this time Alec kept careful track of his hands as they moved. It looked as though he opened the cover past the point where it should be able to tolerate without splitting down the spine, and then pressed his fingertips to the crease of the pages and opened it from there. The pages parted easily, as if he were simply thumbing a book open the ordinary way, and inside was the yet _another_ book, the cover of this one made from crimson leather. Magnus snapped the pages together and again held a completely ordinary and entirely different book, one which was small enough to fit in a pocket.

“This,” Magnus said, touching the cover of the book. “Is my Book of Spells.”

“ _What_!?” Alec nearly jumped back. A warlock’s Book of Spells was a precious thing, full of the secrets of their long lives and the magic that they had learned and refined over the years. It was not unheard of (common, even) for warlocks to kill one another for such knowledge. “Magnus, you gave me that when we first met! At _Ragnor’s_ house! Before we had even _spoken!_ ”

Magnus nodded. “I did.”

Alec thought he might faint. “By the Angel,” he said, shaking his head. “Magnus, are you _mad_?”

Magnus shrugged. “I was confident in its disguise, and I was confident that I could have gotten it back whenever I’d liked.”

His hands tightened around the little red book as he spoke, and Alec narrowed his eyes. Something about his excuse didn’t seem quite… truthful. Or at least, there was still something he wasn’t imparting.

Magnus cleared his throat, wordlessly offering the red book it to Alec, who took it without thinking.

“You are familiar with my pocket dimensions, yes?” Magnus asked, waiting for Alec to nod before continuing. “While they are normally something that only I can access, I do have the ability to place the entrances to certain dimensions inside an object in such a way that other, less magically-inclined individuals can also access it.”

At Magnus’s urging, Alec opened the notebook. The pages were a heavy, good-quality paper that resisted bending when turned. There was nothing written inside, but each page had a tiny star inked into the upper corner. Alec looked through the entire book in a quick flutter of pages and, finding nothing of interest, looked at Magnus questioningly. Magnus smiled, reaching out to tap one of the ink stars.

“Most of these have eight points,” he said, “But one page has a seven-point star, and another has a nine-point star. Open it to the nine-point page”

It only took a moment to find. The star was on either side of a single page, as if the ink had soaked through the fibres. Magnus reached out both hands and, flexing the pointer fingers of each so that they covered the stars, pinched the page between them. Immediately, the piece of paper opened up, unfolding like a beetle’s wing to twice its original size. Alec could see that the sheet was made from a much finer, thinner paper than the rest of the notebook. It had a slight sheen to out, as though it were made from grounds quartz, and Alec watched Magnus carefully as he reached for the page.

Magnus's hand passed through the page without any apparent resistance.

When he withdrew his hand, he was holding a dark stone that glinted blue when he turned it. Magnus looked at Alec, holding the stone up with raised eyebrows, and then put it back into the notebook. The stone disappeared.

Magnus gestured to the notebook.

“Now you try,” he said.

Alec stared at the page, then up at Magnus, mouth open to ask for more instruction, but was halted by his soft smile. Magnus nodded towards the page, smile widening to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

Barely looking, Alec reached his hand through the page. It was as though he had submerged his hand in a bucket of milk, closing around his skin in a rush of liquid. It was cool, though not uncomfortably so. His fingers bumped into a round shape that, when he pulled his hand back, turned out to be the same stone that Magnus had shown him before.

Alec held it up, turning it this way and that so it flashed blue and, along one edge, red. The colour in the stone seemed to glow with its own light, struggling to reach through its shell of stone. It was a cold morning time ember, when the firepit seems to be nothing more than dark charcoal and pale ash until you lean forward and breathe it back to life.

Alec put the stone back in the book, and it went as easily as if he were just placing it on a table. He retracted his empty hand and flexed his fingers, expecting _some_ kind of residual feeling, but there was nothing.

“Woah,” he murmured. He glanced at Magnus, who was beaming. Alec wasn’t sure why, since he was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything particularly difficult, but he felt a flush of accomplishment all the same. “And the Golden Bird will stay here for _days_ without complaint?”

Magnus nodded, taking the notebook back from Alec and placing it, open, in his lap.

“It’s a _momentosus_ dimension, similar to the one I placed the cursed werewolves in. Essentially, time does not flow inside the dimension the way it does here.”

“Oh,” Alec said, remembering the frost that had coated the ice berries. “Why not?”

Magnus shrugged.

“Why does time exist in our dimension at all? No one really knows. The important thing is that, inside this pocket dimension, a journey of a week will only feel like a few minutes,” he reached into the book and took the stone out again, holding it up for Alec to see. “If this were a watch instead of a rock, it would not have changed between now and when it was placed inside the dimension.”

It was impressive, but a rock was very different from a bird. Alec glanced around himself and noticed a vine growing within reach, cornflowers blooming from its stem. He reached out and plucked a flower, placing it into the notebook and withdrawing his hand. He waited a few moments before retrieving it. The petals were as unbruised and perfectly blue as before.

“And there’s no limit to size?” he asked, twirling the flower between his fingers. He looked up and, finding Magnus staring at the bloom, offered it to him wordlessly. Magnus accepted it with a small smile.

“Of course,” Magnus said, tucking the flower behind one pointed ear. “I could fit two dozen oxen into one of my pocket dimensions. Probably an elephant, too, although I can’t say I’ve ever tried that.”

“What’s an elephant?” asked Alec, frowning.

“Ah,” Magnus said, smiling distantly. “How to explain an elephant? York imports ivory, doesn’t it? Do you know the tusks that ivory comes from? The animals that grow them are called elephants.”

Alec tilted his head.

“Surely you mean cyclopses.”

“What? No, cyclopses don’t have tusks. I mean elephants.”

Alec rolled his eyes.

“You can’t fool me on this. I’ve seen the skulls with the tusks still attached. They definitely come from cyclopses.”

Magnus was looking at Alec as if he had lost his mind.

“How about,” Magnus said, “When all this is over, and I am able to make my own doorways, I take you to go see elephants. And _then_ I’ll take you to go see some cyclopses, just to hammer in the fact that they _don’t have tusks_.”

“Of course,” Alec said, rolling his eyes, “And maybe, after that, we can swing around to the land of clouds and whimsy, where everything is built from mist using the power of belief.”

Magnus giggled.

“I know you’re being sarcastic,” he said, eyes distant, “But that reminds me of the faery city Saljmin. Everything is built with thistledown, not mist, but the effect is simply _phenomenal,_ and—.”

“Nevermind,” Alec said, holding up a hand to stop him. He wasn’t sure if Magnus was being serious or just pulling on Alec’s leg, but past experience with having Izzy and Jace as siblings made him wary. “You’re saying that these things you call ‘elephants’ would be able to go into the dimension. So, theoretically, people could also enter a pocket dimension?"

"Oh, yes," Magnus said. "I have several _indeclinatus_ pocket dimensions, where time seems to move much more quickly in relation to the outside world. I like to retreat to them from time to time when the world becomes tiresome. One of my favourite things is to spend a few days relaxing, then coming back to the world to find that no time has passed at all."

Alex thought of the piles of paperwork in his study, increasing in height every day, no matter how many hours of work he put into tackling them.

"That sounds wonderful," he admitted.

Magnus’s eyes brightened. He reached for the book in Alec’s lap, pinching the open page between his fingers and folding it away with a flick before he flipped to the page with the seven-point star. The page unfolded just as effortlessly as the last.

"Would you like to try it?" Magnus asked. His face held all of the mischief of the fox Alec knew he was.

Wordlessly, Alec held out a hand to him, palm up.

Magnus took it, squeezing once. "Close your eyes," he said, and Alec did.

Once, when Alec was very little, he snuck into his mother's closet. It was an entire room filled with colourful dresses, fabric trimmed in embroidery, lace, and beads that sparkled like little stars when the skirts moved. He had been hiding from his governess at the time, and so he had ducked as far into the closet as he could, crouching under skirts to try and best disguise himself. It was there that he had encountered a dress whose fabric against his hand make him stop in his tracks. It was smoother than the clearest of mirrors and cool to the touch, but it had also been unbearably soft. He had imagined that perhaps clouds had been woven into the pale green fabric to make it lighter than air. He had run his fingers over the skirt, and it slipped by with no more resistance than water running through his fingers. Hours later, his governess found him there, still marvelling at the softness. He had later learned that the dress was faery-made, although how his mother had come to possess such an item he still did not know.

What he felt then was like being enveloped in a blanket made of the same fabric. It draped over him, flowing like water, although he stayed dry. His shoulders loosened, and he let out a little breath of relief as it washed over him and away, brief and lovely.

When he opened his eyes, he was lying at the edge of a sunlit meadow, beneath the shade of an apple tree that was heavy with ripe, unspotted fruit. Tall grass grew around him, a meter tall, and the ground beneath him was a soft bed of green moss. When he pressed his fingers against it, they came away clean and dry.

“What do you think?” Magnus said, his voice very close. Alec turned, sitting up slightly, to find Magnus crouching behind him. He was up on his toes, as if he hadn’t yet decided if he should sit or stand, and his eyes were cautiously hopeful.

Alec couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s beautiful,” he said, reaching out to skim his fingers along the grass.

Magnus’s face settled into relief, and, tipping back from his toes, he finally sat with a _huff_. He flicked his fingers, and an apple fell from the tree above him and into his hand. He offered it to Alec, who accepted it wordlessly and took a bite. The sweet juices spilled down his chin and onto his shirt, but he didn’t worry about it; he was too busy humming his appreciation for the taste. Magnus laughed softly, leaning over to gently magic the mess away.

“This is one of my favourite dimensions,” he admitted, watching Alec take another, more careful bite. “I don’t know how much time I have spent here over my life, but I think it must be getting close to a century worth of lazy afternoons.”

Alec thoughtfully chewed his mouthful of fruit.

“I wouldn’t mind a century or two spent here,” he said, watching a butterfly visit some of the pink blossoms of a nearby apple tree, which was incongruously in full bloom. “But I suppose it’s different for mortals. I might enter a young man, stay a few decades, and return an old greybeard to a world where my siblings are still young.”

Magnus chuckled.

“There’s no need to worry. The pocket dimensions hold your body in stasis to prevent exactly that. We may be in this dimension, where the laws of time and man are completely foreign to what we are familiar with, but our flesh belongs to the place we were born. You could spend a thousand years here and never age a single day.”

“So, are we free of all the laws of nature here?” Alec asked. “Could I stand to find myself a thousand leagues tall, or leap over the great Southern mountains in a single jump?”

Magnus laughed, delighted.

“There are still laws beyond our control here, Alexander. Aspects of nature that cannot be bent to our will. The laws of man, however,” Magnus met Alec’s gaze, eyes full of meaning he could only begin to parse out, “Are for us to decide for ourselves.”

“For ourselves?” Alec echoed. His mouth curled into a grin. “I suppose, if that’s the case, you could murder me now and never have it weigh upon your conscience. You could simply decide that, in this place, such things are good and just.”

Magnus’s smile disappeared. His eyes searched Alec’s face, perhaps looking for any accusation.

“Alexander,” he began, “You have to know that I would _never_ do that to you. I will never do anything to harm you.”

Alec softened, reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers along the arc of Magnus’s cheekbone.

“I know,” he said. “I trust you more than I can say.”

Magnus’s face split into a grin, relief lingering at the edges of his eyes. Alec smiled helplessly back, dropping his hand. He took another bite from the apple. It occurred to him that this, too, was against the rules. Eating the fruit of a strange land was a sure-fire way of becoming trapped there forever.

“It’s hard to believe that I won’t be cursed just for being here,” Alec said. “The fables always warn of dark consequences for accepting the seemingly wondrous gifts offered by the fae.”

Magnus chuckled, leaning in close. Alec was so busy staring at his mouth that he was caught by surprise when Magnus plucked the apple from his hand.

“Sometimes, Alexander,” he said, holding Alec’s gaze, “Good things happen to people, and they are not punished for it.”

Alec breathed a laugh as Magnus crunched into the apple.

“Perhaps,” he acquiesced, “But having no consequences makes a very poor tale indeed.”

“A poor tragedy, perhaps,” Magnus said, licking his lips clean with deliberate slowness, “But there are other types of stories.”

Magnus was very close now. Alec could see where his kohl was smudged, just slightly, under his left eye, making them asymmetrical. Alec’s heartbeat was loud in his ears, his blood singing with unfamiliar courage. A little closer, and he could count the eyelashes along his lower eyelid. Alec’s gaze dropped to Magnus’s mouth, still shiny with the juice from the apple, and then he closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Their lips met. The apple hit the ground with a hollow _thunk._

The first emotion to flood through Alec was, illogically, fear.

He thought of a kingdom west from York, where two men had been lynched for doing what he was doing now. He thought of his mother’s disgusted expression as she listened to gossip about Underhill’s rumoured lovers. He thought of the statue of the angel Raziel that stood in their palace’s chapel, stone eyes eternally gazing down on them in judgement, and wondered if he could see Alec giving in to his darker desires.

Magnus must have felt him stiffen against him, because he pulled away. Immediately, Alec’s fear was cut down by longing. He just had kissed a man, _this_ man, and had been too afraid to really feel it.

“Alexander?” Magnus said, eyes searching. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so—.”

Alec interrupted him with his lips. Their teeth knocked together awkwardly, but they quickly adjusted to a softer press of lips. This time, Alec felt euphoria bubble up inside of him.

The doubt still niggled at him, whispering a familiar refrain in the back of his mind. ‘ _It is better to walk away, not knowing what you’re missing, than to be granted but a taste and spend the rest of your life craving.’_

One day, Alec would be the King of York. He would marry a foreign princess in a political match that would bring prosperity to his kingdom, and he would live as an exemplary king, abiding by the laws that bound all of his citizens.

But not yet.

Here, now, in this universe that Magnus had created, the laws of man could not touch Alec. Here, there were no mobs to beat him and no servants to gossip about him to his mother. Here, Raziel’s gaze couldn’t find him.

 _If I must starve for the rest of my life,_ he thought, head spinning as Magnus deepened the kiss, _let the memory of satiation soothe my hunger pangs._

Alec pressed forward into Magnus, a half-crazed giggle rising in his throat, and overbalanced them both. Magnus fell onto his back into the grass, Alec kissing him all the while, and made a small pleased noise as his weight settled atop him. Alec had no idea what he was doing, but a hand at the base of his skull helped to guide him, slowing his desperate movements to a gentler glide of mouths. Warmth flooded through Alec, tingling beneath his skin in waves of want that ran down his back and settled at the base of his spine, tightening into a spring of desire.

 _Yes,_ his body seemed to say, _this is the way it is supposed to be. This is what men kill for, what ballads are written for. This is what you have been missing._

Magnus pulled back, firm hands on Alec’s shoulders stopping him from chasing him forward. Alec opened his eyes. Magnus’s lips were kiss-red and shiny, his cheeks flushed. But his eyes were aware, searching Alec’s face with concern.

“Alexander?” he whispered, his voice a breeze through the grass around them. “You’re shaking.”

Alec looked at one of his hands and saw that it was true. His fingers were practically vibrating. He clenched his hands into fists, trying and failing to calm the trembling, and Magnus covered his hands with his own.

“Maybe we should stop,” he suggested. Alec whipped his head up, a desperate noise tearing from his throat.

“ _No_!” he said, too loudly. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “No. We don’t need to stop. I want this. I _want_ this, please, don’t—.”

Magnus silenced him with a finger against his lips. He was smiling.

“I want this too,” he said. “But there’s no need to rush. Here, we have all the time in the world.”

Alec followed Magnus’s finger with his eyes as he pulled it away, and so was surprised when Magnus planted another kiss on his lips. Short this time, like a greeting, or a reassurance before Magnus pulled away, sitting up.

Alec sat up as well, wiping the wetness he could feel on his lips self-consciously. He felt like a mess. He glanced at Magnus, who looked a bit ruffled, but in a confident, poised sort of way. The cornflower behind his ear had been knocked askew, but Alec couldn’t bring himself to right it. His hands were still shaking in his lap.

Alec closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to calm himself.

Jace and Izzy had never spoken of romantic entanglements like _this._ A cluster of fear, exhilaration, and anxiety that tightened your insides in a delightful mess. He imagined telling Izzy about this, his first kiss (one curse-breaking peck notwithstanding). He pictured her face, how it would light up with delight as she demanded _details, now._

“Have I ever told you about my sister?” Alec asked. He looked at Magnus, who had scooted away so that he was sitting with his back against the trunk of the tree. He was watching Alec cautiously as he shook his head.

“You haven’t, no,” Magnus said. “Would you like to?”

Alec nodded. He shifted over so that his side was pressed up against Magnus’s, turning to look at the apples over their heads.

“Isabelle. Izzy. You would have liked her, I think.”

“Oh?” Magnus said. His voice was playful, but also a touch intrigued. “And why is that?”

Alec shrugged, “She’s always so much larger than life. Telling people how it is, never backing down from a fight, even if she can’t possibly win.” Alec shook his head. “When she and Jace both got something into their heads, they were impossible to reason with. I spent a lot of time cleaning up after them. Making excuses, fixing the things they broke, talking out of diplomatic holes they dug. It was exhausting.”

“Oh? And yet, the memory makes you smile.”

Alec realized that Magnus was right; he was grinning.

“It was hard work,” Alec admitted, “But she always had the best of intentions. Always overflowing with kindness, my sister. And it’s not like she was completely unaware of the headaches she caused me. Even when I tried to shoulder the blame for her, she was always there to deny that I had any involvement. More often than not, we were both punished. So, she started being sneakier, keeping her plans from me, so that whenever she _did_ get caught, I couldn’t claim responsibility.”

Magnus opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped. His brow creased.

“Sounds frustrating,” he said at last, although Alec got the impression that that wasn’t what Magnus had been going to say. Alec sighed, looking up at the sky.

“That’s probably what happened this time,” he said, watching the clouds drift by lazily. “She was sneaking away into some trouble, and when it caught up with her, I wasn’t there to pull her out of the fire.”

A touch on his shoulder made Alec look over at Magnus. He was smiling, the sweetness of the expression turning his eyes butterscotch gold.

“Is that not what you’re doing now?” he asked. “Going on a quest to save your sister, although you are not to blame for her plight? Putting yourself in harm’s way to save those you love?”

Alec smiled. He leaned forward and touched his mouth to the corner of Magnus’s, thrilling at the warm press.

“Some things,” he said, softly in the still air between them, “Are worth any risk.”

Magnus stared at Alec, lips parted in surprise, before breaking out in a grin. He cupped Alec’s cheek in his hand.

“I think you may be right about that,” Magnus said, voice rough, and pulled Alec into another kiss.

They spent hours in the meadow, exchanging words between breathless kisses. At one point, Alec laid back in the grass, listening to it rustle in the wind with his eyes closed and enjoying the sunlight while Magnus played with his hair. He had only just begun to drift off to sleep when Magnus gave a sharp tug to a lock.

“Ow!” Alec says, although it had been more unexpected than painful. “What was that for?”

Magnus didn't look the slightest bit remorseful. He shrugged. “You shouldn't sleep in an _indeclinatus_ dimension.”

“Huh?” Asked blinked, confused. “Why not?”

“Your body is kept in a stasis while you’re here,” he said, combing Alec’s fringe back from his forehead. “Which is a good thing, usually. That way, you'll never emerge to find yourself a hundred years old & crumble to dust. Downside, you can't heal or rest in the dimension, except for illnesses and wounds of the mind and soul. So, if you sleep, your mind will believe itself to be rested while your body did not rest at all. It’s terribly disorienting, especially for mortals. I don’t recommend it.”

“Mmhmm,” Alec agreed, already dozing off again. Magnus woke him with another sharp tug. “ _Ow!_ ”

Magnus pointed at Alec, almost touching the tip of his nose. “no sleeping.”

Alec groaned. “I hear what you’re saying, and it's a very compelling argument, but consider this:” he gestured at their surroundings, “I am very comfortable, and warm, and tired, and this place is _extremely_ relaxing.”

They continued to bicker, Magnus trying different ways to keep Alec awake, and while manhandling him accidentally happened upon the fact that Alec’s sides were _extremely_ ticklish. The ensuing tickle fight left them both wheezing, and Alec discovered that a sure-fire way to dissuade such attacks from Magnus was to kiss him until he was breathless. In the end, Magnus convinced him to return to their home dimension so they could sleep.

“You leave first,” Alec requested, jaw cracking from a massive yawn. “I want to know what it’s like.”

Magnus shook his head fondly but obliged, exiting the dimension through a hidden door in one of the apple tree’s trunks. Alec sat alone in the dimension for about a minute, watching the clouds roll past him, when he felt a warm pressure against his temples, urging his eyes to close. He obeyed, and a soft serenity washed over him. The breeze through the grass and the leaves of the tree sounded for a moment like the rush of a waterfall, washing away all the lingering tensions he hadn’t even realized he had been carrying. The sound rose and fell, and at the crest of one cycle, something clicked into place, and next Alec knew, a pair of arms were wrapped around him.

He opened his eyes to find that he was lying across Magnus’s lap, cradled in his arms. Magnus was bent over him, again stroking his fingers through Alec’s hair. He smiled when their eyes met.

“Magnus?” Alec said, blinking hard.

“Yes, angel?” Magnus said.

“I feel like…,” he leaned his head against Magnus’s chest, smiling. “like I was just woken from a very deep sleep.”

Magnus laughed. “Then I apologize for interrupting your slumber, dear prince. You are returned to your world, so now I will let you rest.”

“Mhmm,” Alec mumbled, already drifting to sleep.

Magnus conjured a bedroll around them both to keep out the chill, but he didn’t sleep. He tried for some time, head tucked against Alec’s chest and listening to the soft _buh-thump_ , _buh-thump_ of his heartbeat, but his mind could not find peace.

Hours later, as Alec dreamed and the stars blanketed the sky, Magnus finally turned away from him and loosened his leather cuff enough to slip it off over his hand. He stared at the rune, incongruously harsh on the tender flesh of his wrist, and touched it with trembling fingers.

“Isabelle,” he murmured, half expecting to choke on nothing. “Have I… have I done something terrible?”

Nothing in the night answered, save for the voices of crickets and frogs that always called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIIIIIIIT.  
> I finished this on Sunday but I couldn't get a minute for a final edit until today because life has been INSANE you guys. sorry for the delay ;A;  
> This was… maybe the first chapter I ever wrote for this story? It was kind of funny editing it, because there were some very old-timey speech patterns in the dialogue. I wanted to do that at first to increase the fairytail ambiance, but I didn’t maintain it while writing because it’s HARD to write dialogue that feels so… unnatural. It was funny to see what I did before giving up.
> 
> Note for people following this story: The next chapter may be late. I’ll aim for my usual 2 weeks (Sept 16), but honestly? I’m moving this week, work has gotten busy (my very limited season for field work is closing ;A; ), I need to drive 6 hours to go see my parents and get some of my furniture (bc moving) but like in a safe way bc pandemic, AND the next chapter is easily 2x longer than any other I’ve published thus far. Seriously. I may or may not be forced to split it into 2 parts. For all of these reasons (and more!), I’m not going to push myself too hard. If 2 weeks isn’t long enough, then I’ll give myself 2.5 or 3 weeks.   
> Also: oh hey, I changed the chapter count again! On review, this chapter didn’t have nearly enough UMPH for a final chapter >.> I am a fickle human.  
> Next up: WHAT HAPPENED TO ISABELLE? It’s time to find out >:D
> 
> Trivia nonsense that I always shove here:  
> Notebook: oh hey that thing I introduced in chapter 1 is actually useful later on? THE POWER OF WRITING A FIRST DRAFT IS GREAT! I actually imagined the unfolding of the notebook’s page more like an earwig’s wing, but most people are unfamiliar with that, so it makes a bad simile. Here’s a video, for reference: https://youtu.be/Q4NiF3w101Q?t=74   
> (I fucking love insects holy SHIT)  
> Elephants = Cyclops?: The cyclops-elephant thing is referring to the fact that (supposedly) the ancient Greeks saw elephant skulls and assumed they were cyclops skulls, since there’s a big ol’ hole in them that kind of looks like an eye orbital. It’s actually the nasal opening for their big ol’ trunks, but if you see an elephant skull you can tell why they got it confused.  
> Picture for reference: http://www.strangehistory.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/dwarf-elephant.jpg 
> 
> The cool stone was Labradorite. There’s an excellent Inuit legend about how the Northern Lights were once trapped inside a huge Labradorite stone and were released when a human gave the rock a mighty whack with their spear, allowing the light to escape back into the sky.   
> Plant (and rock!) symbolism:  
> Labradorite: transformation; grounding; unseen worlds; fire  
> Cornflower: Anticipation; hope. In Hanakotoba (Japanese language of flowers) it represents trust.  
> Apples/ Apple tree: temptation (Judeo-Christian); rebirth, longevity, love (Celtic)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated SO FREAKING MUCH.
> 
> Seriously. What did you think? Do you like it? Hate it? Are you confused about something? Where do you think this is going? Did you notice a typo? Are you wondering about your place in the universe? TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.
> 
> I will be trying to update every two weeks on Sunday, but it turns out I’m an ‘essential worker’ or whatever so I can’t make any big promises


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